


Forget yourself

by rosehead



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), DIVERSITY BITCHES, DON'T LET ME SCARE YOU OFF IT'S A HAPPY ENDING, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, GUYS THERE'S A HAPPY ENDING DON'T LET ME SCARE YOU AWAY, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Japanese Korean Keith (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Korean-American Keith (Voltron), M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, PIDGE IS THE TOKEN WHITE GIRL, Pining Lance (Voltron), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, broganes, nobody stays dead for long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosehead/pseuds/rosehead
Summary: Lance didn't think he'd meet his soulmate in space. But then again, he didn't think he'd ever meet them. Is it okay to want someone else even when he knows he's got a soulmate out there?It must be, because honestly, Lance will take what he can get.
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 92





	1. knotted together

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what? I decided to make a soulmate au because I'm a sLUT FOR THE GOOD SHIT. 
> 
> And really, if all fanfic authors don't have at least one (1) fake dating and/or soulmate fic, wHAT'S EVEN THE POINT

On Lance's right wrist were the words: _who are you._

On the left were, _it's supposed to sound like a goodbye, Lance._

Lance was eight. He hadn't realized what exactly those soulmarks meant. Mami always told him it was some matching soulmate, soulmark, word thing. He still didn't understand.

That is, until Rachel pointed it out.

It was a momentous occasion. Veronica had finally let the twins (they weren't twins, but they looked so similar there was no point in denying it) into the tree-house she'd built with one of her friends, Jenny (on whom Lance had had the biggest crush on). She'd huffed and pushed aside that _no boys aloud_ sign and let Lance and Rachel tag along because Jenny wasn't coming that day, with strict instructions to _sit there and don't touch anything_.

It wasn't like there was anything to touch anyway, according to eight-year-old Lance's rebellious thoughts. Whatever was littered on the floor was all girly junk no boy wanted to touch.

Rachel plonked herself on the wooden slats, swinging her legs over the tree-house edge. Lance did the same, except restrained himself from swinging his legs. Only little kids did that.

"What's your soulmark?" Rachel asked suddenly.

"What's yours?"

"I asked first," she countered, but let out a yelp when Lance grabbed her wrist to read her marks for himself.

Right wrist: _what's your favorite ice cream flavor?_

Left wrist: _see you on the other side, Rach._

He snickered when she wrenched her hands out of his grasp, cheeks flaming. "Favorite ice cream flavor? How _sweet_."

Rachel never let _anyone_ call her Rach or any kind of short form to her actual name, but hey, this was a golden opportunity. Lance wasn't going to pass this up.

She scowled at him. "Now show me yours."

Lance stuck his wrist out proudly. Rachel studied the delicate handwriting for a few seconds, brow pinching exactly the way Lance's did when he focused on something.

"What does the left one mean?" she asked finally, leaning away. "Does that mean you're going to be there when she dies?"

Lance made a face, a retort on the tip of his tongue, when it dissolved. "I--I don't know."

Rachel didn't pick up on his moment of realization. Her nose scrunched. "Well, if you're old, then you might be. But does that mean she's saying goodbye when you don't want her to? Like, she's dying and saying goodbye, because she's too young to die or something?"

Lance's thoughts screeched to a halt.

"I don't know," he said slowly. Rachel frowned at him for a second, and he hoped that his change in expression wasn't visible. "I don't know if it's going to be a girl either."

He regretted it, just for a second.

"Do you think it'll be a boy then?" Rachel asked, resting her chin in the crook of her elbow on top of the banister.

"It could be."

"You'll have more choice then," she said wisely, waving a chubby hand. "But it'll be harder to find them. More _candidates_." Veronica had taught her that word last week.

Lance hummed, but he wasn't thinking about that. For once, when he thought about his soulmate, he wasn't thinking about Jenny Shaybon's long red hair or deep green eyes. What if it was a boy? Someone fiery, someone who'd get on his nerves and make his blood boil, someone whom Lance would follow across the universe without hesitation. Someone who didn't smile often, but when he-- _they_ did, it would make him feel buoyant, because he'd _earned_ that smile.

Yeah, he'd like that.

.

.

.

Keith's right wrist said, _hey man you alright._

His left one said, _stop making it sound like goodbye._

Contrary to what everyone probably thought of him, Keith was pretty excited to meet his soulmate. Well, _hello_ , someone who was bound to him _and_ wouldn't leave no matter what the situation? Sign him up for the next war.

Keith was the most reticent out of all the paladins, everyone knew that. Even Shiro, back at the Garrison, asked about his soulmate only until a year had passed and Keith knew that Shiro would never shame him for anything. But Shiro had been taken aback by the hopeful look in Keith's eyes, in the way that he spoke of his soulmate. His words weren't glowing, by any means, but there was a quiet sense of longing that was clearly visible to someone as observant as Shiro.

"They mean a lot to you, don't they?" Shiro observed when he noticed Keith absentmindedly stroking the words on his wrists. Keith immediately reddened and hid them from sight. Shiro chuckled. "Hey, no shame in loving your soulmate before you know them."

Keith's redness only reduced slightly. He was still embarrassed to be caught feeling anything. "Was it like that for you?"

"Definitely," Shiro assured him, tweaking a setting on the hovercraft. "According to Adam, I was practically obsessed with him, although Matt would say otherwise."

Keith snorted. "You seem the obsessive type."

Shiro gasped and grabbed Keith into a headlock. Keith laughed and squirmed. "Shiro!"

Shiro let him go, both of them laughing. But eventually, his wide smile faded into something more meaningful.

"I'm being serious, Keith. You don't have to be scared."

"I'm not scared," Keith said instantly, and Shiro leveled him with a _this is you we're talking about_ look.

"If you aren't, great. If you are, I can promise you, the universe wouldn't have chosen wrong. It wouldn't have chosen someone who'd leave you at the first chance, okay?"

"Okay," Keith mumbled, looking at his feet. Shiro patted him on the shoulder.

"Now ease up and get to class. I don't want to be yelled at by Iverson again."

Keith returned Shiro's smile with a tentative one of his own.

.

.

.

Lance and Hunk were in the cafeteria when it happened.

The noise was usual. No matter how military-like the Garrison was, the lunch hour ambient noise was the same across all education systems. Lance was standing in front of Hunk, looking for a hopefully empty table, when suddenly all the noise died away. It wasn't even a gradual silence, like a wave coming in and flowing back. This was like someone had flipped an off switch on the Garrison's noise levels, as a deathly hush fell over the room.

Hunk gave a little whimper from next to him. Lance looked at the giant announcement screen next to the entrance, shining blindingly bright with white light.

KERBEROS MISSION DISAPPEARS PILOT ERROR.

Lance didn't comprehend it for a second. He read the Spanish captions below it almost automatically.

_LA MISIÓN DE KERBEROS DESAPARECE ERROR PILOTO._

Hunk was still blinking in dawning comprehension from next to him.

Slowly, the noise returned, though it was only a poor excuse for the hustle and bustle teenagers often made. Whispers started ricocheting around the room.

_"Shirogane was the pilot, right?"_

_"He'd never make an error like that."_

_"Wasn't he supposed to be benched for this?"_

_"Matt Holt has a little sister, what's going to happen to her?"_

But Lance wasn't listening to those. Instead, he homed in on one vague murmur.

_"Wasn't Kogane Shirogane's brother or something?"_

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw a flurry of movement. One uniformed cadet, leaving the hall, fists clenched. Out of impulse, Lance followed him.

Kogane was standing outside in the empty hallway, biting his knuckles. Even from a distance, Lance could see how glassy his eyes were, how his jaw was clenched. He could practically see a reflection of that screen in Kogane's eyes.

"Hey man, you alright?"

He whirled around. Lance caught a glimpse of startlingly violet eyes, blown wide with surprise and some defensive, vulnerable look before they hardened. Lance tried not to stare as he spun around again and set off down the corridor at a spanking pace.

Later, he'd realize, he was the only one who had the honor of ever talking to Keith Kogane without getting scowled at.

It didn't feel like an achievement.


	2. challenge accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He thinks I can't be nice? Well, watch out, mullet. I'll show you nice_.
> 
> Lance takes Keith's words at face value.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO HERE'S THE DEAL. I'VE GOT _SEVENTEEN ASSIGNMENTS_ DUE BY GOD KNOWS WHEN. I HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A COCKROACH ON CRACK SO I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHEN WE HAVE TO SUBMIT IT. I'M PROBABLY MOVING COUNTRIES AND CHANGING HOMES IN A FEW MONTHS.
> 
> Bright side #1: My friends and I made up bc I have isolation issues and suck ass at online friendships, but we're good
> 
> Bright side #2: My friend Lilah has general anxiety disorder. I have mild ADHD and insomnia. And then I went, 'yo Sam, what's your mental state because there is no one mentally healthy friend here' and poor Sam is just....'idk??? I'm running low on sleep and drunk on deprivation lemme sleep'. IT WAS NINE PM. SAM. GETCHA SHIT TOGETHER, YOU'RE THE MOM FRIEND.
> 
> Bright side #3: I made two new friends in Bio Lab. Yay. Go me.
> 
> Does someone have any memes to hit me up with bc I'm so close to just crying in the middle of the night. Give me your o shit waddup. Give me your oh worm. Give me your STEP THE FUCK UP, KYLE. Come join me and monch the bred.
> 
> \- Ro

The vision through Lance's sniper scope had colored everything blue, but he didn't mind. Blue was his favorite color. The ocean was blue. His lion was blue. His own eyes were blue. Lance took his eye off the rifle viewer when Keith turned around, pushing up his bangs from his sweaty forehead and grinning widely up at where Lance was hidden.

These days, however, he didn't really mind red. As long as it didn't piss him off.

"That was better than usual," Keith called. Lance hopped down from his vantage point.

"Understatement of the quiznaking centaphoeb."

Keith raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I don't think you're using either of those words correctly."

"What do you know, mullet?"

Keith just rolled his eyes. His sword turned back into his bayard, and Lance raised his arms to stretch himself. Sniping accurately meant sitting (or standing) still in one position for so long nearly all limbs fell asleep. He sighed when he heard the satisfying crack of his spine.

Keith shuddered. Lance grinned, until his eyes fell to the worn black gloves Keith was wearing and fidgeting with.

"Do you ever take those off?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You got a problem with them?"

Lance just made a vague gesture that failed to encompass his general disdain for anything Keith-related. "They're gross and sweaty! You go to sleep with them now?"

Keith pursed his lips and tamped down the flare of irritation. "I shower with them too."

Keith left the room satisfied to hear Lance choke incredulously behind him.

.

.

.

The thing about having a crush entirely built on rivalry and competitiveness and physical attraction with a healthy sprinkling of jealousy on top was that Lance had absolutely no idea when it had happened. He'd look at Keith and he'd see a threat, whether to his ego or his fluster level on a scale of one to ten.

Sometimes, when Keith put himself in unnecessary danger (to Shiro's chagrin) and just barely managed to escape, Lance would be surprised to find that he actually cared. Like, not just that Keith had managed to outdo him for the millionth time, but because--well, hadn't he 'hated' the guy from day one?

Sometimes, that care manifested itself in concerning ways.

It was on planet Tyrolia that it happened.

The Tyli species were known to be hospitable and gentle, much like the Olkari, but Coran had drilled the fact into their heads: _they were not to be messed with._ They could be very passive-aggressive when required, and often resorted to using psychologically manipulative tactics when threatened.

But that wasn't going to be a problem.

After all, they had just saved the planet from a giant volcanic acid creature, obviously, Voltron was welcome.

There were smiles and cheers from the crowd when the team emerged from their lions, and Allura from her shuttle. They were gathered on the outskirts of the smoking city, in the open plains covered in glaringly orange grass. The Tyli were a beautiful species; Queen Ora was dressed in soft periwinkle-blue robes and chains and chains of small gems strung together that glittered in the light of the nearest star.

Allura, Shiro, and the queen stepped forward to greet each other. The other paladins hung behind, removing their helmets in a show of trust. Lance saw Keith tug off his helmet, shaking out his dark hair ( _which looked suspiciously soft and not at all greasy and Lance totally didn't want to touch it_ ).

That was where it all went wrong.

The little posse of Tyli gathered to meet them showed no visible reaction, although Lance could've _sworn_ that their large dark pupils narrowed within their milky pupils.

He tuned out of the formalities and small talk then, focusing solely on Queen Ora's wife, Fona, who was concentrating on Keith like he was a bug under her microscope.

The first sign was when Keith finally looked up and made eye contact with Fona. Lance watched as he stiffened in place, dark blue eyes glazing over in surprise. His mouth was twisted into a grimace, and if Lance didn't know better, he'd say it was a grimace of pain.

Normally, Lance wouldn't have paid attention to Keith. Wouldn't have cared about those stupid, stupid first words, and would've focused on someone else. Allura, maybe. The way she held her chin high like _she_ was the queen of Tyrolia and owned the land they walked on. Like she wasn't just a teenager fighting a war that wasn't her own, either.

Normally, Lance would've cared about this soulmate of his.

But he couldn't, not when Keith was right there ( _because for some reason, Lance liked them mad, he liked them fuming and scarlet--_ ) and besides, Allura needed a paladin more than a boyfriend, and Lance needed a friend more than a princess.

Pidge and Hunk were whispering remarks to each other (probably smack-talking) about everything good and bad about Tyrolia, like siblings would do if they sat for a family dinner with a particularly troublesome branch of the family, Lance knew the type. They didn't notice Keith's hands trembling or the sheen of sweat on Keith's temple, despite the suits having near-perfect thermostats.

Lance didn't want to interrupt and annoy Keith into lashing out with a _I was handling it, Lance!_ or anything like that. But would he keep an eye out for the red paladin? Absolutely.

When there was a brief lull in conversation, Fona leaned over to whisper in Ora's ear, still not breaking eye contact. Keith was pale and sweaty, and Lance couldn't see his chest moving to take breaths.

It was when it looked like he was about to collapse that Lance finally stepped in.

"What the hell are you doing to him?"

His diplomatic tone was going to need some work, but it got the job done. Pidge and Hunk stopped snickering to themselves, Queen Ora looked astounded, and Shiro and Allura whipped around. Most importantly, his loud exclamation startled Fona into breaking eye contact.

Keith's knees gave out, but Lance grabbed him before he could hit the ground. He could hear him gasping in ragged breaths, and winced when blood dribbled from the corner of Keith's mouth.

For a second, unadulterated fury rose up in him, but it was dulled by Keith looking up at him, his glazed indigo eyes afire with something like astonishment and fear and _defeat_ , and Lance felt even more angry.

_Did the jerk think that he deserved to be discriminated against just because he was part-Galra?_

Maybe he was masking the fact that he cared under a thinly veiled layer of anger and indignation, but it still counted. In fact, Keith did the same thing. Right now, his head was bowed and he looked like he'd been crushed from the inside out, but he'd done the same thing. Snarled at people who dared insinuate that Pidge couldn't fight because she was a girl, glared at those who called Hunk weak because he was scared, downright challenged people to a duel if they said one wrong thing about Shiro.

"What...happened--?" Lance could see the cogs turning in Shiro's head as his gaze hardened and he shifted it to Fona, who pursed her lips.

"He is half-Galra, is he not?"

"And?" Shiro said dangerously, an edge to his voice. Lance recognized it. _Please, go on with your ridiculous racism so I can proceed to beat you flat with my words._

Queen Ora looked nonplussed. "I don't understand?"

"I'll make you understand," Lance said loudly. "Lady Fona was crushing Keith from the inside with that eye contact manipulation thing you've got going for you."

"Lance, it's fine," Keith mumbled, trying to pry away his arm.

"It's not fine," Shiro said sharply, crossing over to Keith's other side. "It was not our intention to hide it from you, because his heritage was only recently discovered. But he's the paladin of the Red Lion."

"He's our teammate," Pidge piped up.

"Yeah, we trust him," Hunk added, even though he looked like he was about to bolt.

" _We_ do not," Fona spoke up suddenly, eyes flashing. "We have seen Galra hybrids like these, and we have raised them among our own children. We pretend not to see the yellow eyes and the teeth, but we cannot change them. When they defect, they leave bodies of their beloved behind. My tribe was murdered by _animals_ like him. You may be welcome, but he is not."

Keith swallowed.

"Lady Fona," Shiro and Allura spoke up at the same time. Lance stiffened.

The same name had come out of both their mouths, but it was said differently. Allura had been born into royalty, trained to be diplomatic and peaceful. Her words were warning, but placating. Shiro, however, didn't have royal training. The Garrison's golden boy had had training in the art of battle and combat when he was an adult, not war and peace. His words were a threat.

Lance saw Allura turn around and glance at Keith, her turquoise eyes alight with rightful indignation and regret. Over the past few weeks, Keith and Allura had become better friends, spending almost as much time together as Lance and Hunk did. The pinched eyebrows and the bright eyes said that she was stuck.

"Okay, this is absolute bullshit."

Lance realized he'd said something only when Keith's breath hitched. By then, it was too late to eat his words. He decreased his grip on Keith's arm and walked forward, wearing the same determined set to his face he wore when someone tried to bully any of his friends.

"Keith is a _paladin of Voltron_. An ally that your people obviously, desperately need. He's the best we've got, right after Shiro. The Red Lion deals the most damage. It's on the front lines all the damn time. I can safely say that Red does more damage that Blue and Green put together. He's the one who gets as close as he can to the ion cannons just so _we_ get an opening. He's the one who _willingly_ puts himself in the most danger.

"Look, I'm not going to beat around a dead-ass bush," Lance plowed on, looking straight into Lady Fona's eyes. She seemed too frozen to pin him with her deadly stare. "If you don't trust him, you don't trust any of us. Either he stays, or none of us do."

Silence followed his monologue, silence from the paladins and from Ora's posse.

"Please," Allura implored, hands spread in the universal gesture of _calm down_. "Work with us. Do not let your preconceptions of race blind you to the good in people."

Queen Ora looked constipated. Lady Fona looked stubborn. Finally, the queen sighed.

"I suppose you have proven yourself."

"Thank you," Shiro said acidly, and Allura tacked on a more sincere 'Your highness' for respect.

"You may return to your ship, and we will call in two vargas for the welcome feast," Ora said, and Lance grinned when Fona looked discontent.

When the royal posse had floated away, Shiro turned to Keith, who was still looking a little pale, although whether it was out of fear or pain Lance couldn't tell.

"Do we need to get you a healing pod?"

"No," Keith said immediately, but blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Shiro sighed. "Contact Coran. We need to get him a healing pod. Just ten minutes in it, Keith."

He waved at Pidge, who was busy fiddling away with her gauntlet, and walked up to her to get her attention. Lance was busy watching Hunk trying to befriend one of the Tyli, although it looked more like he was charming them than anything, when his attention was dragged back by a small cough.

"Hey, um, thanks," Keith said, head hanging low so his bangs covered his eyes. "You didn't have to say all that, though."

Lance huffed. "You could be a little more grateful."

"I'm being serious," Keith insisted, raising his head, and only then did Lance see how glassy his eyes were. "Nobody's ever done that for me, and I--it would've gotten a lot worse if it wasn't for you."

Lance ignored the little flips his heart was doing. "One, that's really sad, of course we're gonna stand up for you more often. And two, you can count on me. All of us, really."

"I know," Keith mumbled. "I just wasn't expecting that from you." Lance must have had a horrified expression on his face, because Keith immediately backpedaled. "I mean, that you would yell at royalty because of some racism issues, that's all."

Lance just stared. Keith began to squirm.

Lance was no stranger to racism or xenophobia, and both he and Hunk could attest to that. Neither of them were exactly Wonder bread, and that meant a lot of people saying horrible things because they couldn't see past the obvious difference in skin color and language barriers.

And god, Keith was a homeless gay Asian orphan who grew up in Texas, how bad had it been for him? Don't get him wrong, Lance still did a lot of things based on his need to be better and shine brighter than his competition, but despite the constant bickering, they were a _team_. 

And the words that Keith had said-- _I hadn't expected that from_ you--as if he thought Lance was incapable of being generous, even if he hadn't meant it to sound like that. That had been his first thought--surprise that Lance had stood up for him. It annoyed Lance. It started an itch inside his chest and spread all the way to his brain.

_He thinks I can't be nice? Well, watch out, mullet. I'll show you nice._

"I didn't lie," he said suddenly, and had the satisfaction of seeing Keith's eyes blow wide open in surprise. "You are our best."

Keith sputtered. Lance just shrugged--the signature loose shrug he'd crafted only to spite Keith--and gestured forward.

"Shouldn't you be getting to a healing pod?"

At the mention of 'healing pod', Shiro perked up and grabbed onto Keith's arm.

"Come on, Keith, internal bleeding's no joke."

Lance could still feel Keith's stunned gaze on him even after he turned around to join Hunk.

.

.

.

Keith was tearing off a piece of adhesive tape when Lance entered the lounge. Both of them stiffened.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Lance hissed. From his vantage point on the top of the ladder, Keith made a cutting motion across his neck that said, _if you breathe a word I'll kill you._

"Shut up."

Lance looked from Keith with tape all over his hands and a stack of paper stuck under his arm, to the few hundred pictures Keith had already stuck all over the walls, to Shiro, knocked out on the paladin lounge. His feet moved of their own volition, bringing him to the foot of the ladder where Keith was busy slicing off pieces of tape like his life depended on it.

"Shiro's gonna lose his shit," he remarked, looking at the especially unnerving eight-by-eight picture of Slav in yalmor pajamas staring wide-eyed at the camera that Keith had stuck right in the middle of the--what was it, a shrine?

Keith gave him a wicked grin that was so similar to Pidge's it almost knocked Lance off balance. "That's the goal."

"Is this payback for that ti--"

"Yes, Lance. It's payback for the time _which we don't talk about._ "

Shiro had tried to startle Keith once by tiptoeing into his room and shaking him awake, but had received the surprise of the century because apparently Keith slept with his knife under his pillow--Lance wasn't too surprised--and Shiro had just barely managed to dodge before the knife had embedded itself in the wall an inch away from his ear.

Lance desperately wanted to say something sassy, maybe rile Keith up a bit, but he wanted to see how this played out. "Gotcha."

Keith eyed him suspiciously. "You're not gonna wake Shiro up to tell on me?" His words were fuzzy until he ripped the last piece of tape off his lip and stuck the biggest picture of Slav on the wall, right where Shiro would look as soon as he awoke.

Lance didn't want to think about how cute it was.

"Nah. Maybe this will decrease his lecture time every time one of us fucks up." And no doubt they _would_ fuck up at one point.

"Fair enough," Keith agreed, and at the mischievous twinkle in his eye, Lance almost forgot whom he was talking to. A reminder never to mess with the 'gane brothers when it came to pranks.

Lance glanced back at Shiro, draped over the couch, and had to stifle a chuckle. Their esteemed leader's two-toned hair was tousled (" _Helmet hair_ ," Pidge would snarl into her mirror as if coming face to face with an old nemesis), one whole leg dangling off the armrest, and an orange data-pad clutched in his left hand so he wouldn't accidentally crush it with his right.

The black paladin, everybody.

A whisper-yell from Keith made Lance look up suddenly. "Stop tapping the ladder, it's loud!"

"I wasn't tapping!"

"Yeah, you were. Hold these." Keith thrust the stack of pictures at him.

They went completely silent when a groggy mumble interrupted them.

"Lance? Keith?" Shiro said blearily, struggling to sit upright and not fall off the couch at the same time. He looked at them. Lance and Keith looked at each other.

Keith jumped off the ladder and landed on his feet without a single stumble, which was ridiculous because Lance would've sprained an ankle if he'd jumped _seven feet vertically downwards._

"KEITH!"

Keith met his eyes. "Run."

Lance didn't need to be told twice. He took a second to fling the stack of papers in Shiro's general direction and followed Keith as they hightailed it out the room. A high-pitched scream told them Shiro had registered all the pictures of Slav and a crash signified that he had probably kicked down the door to chase them.

"KEITH! LANCE."

"He sounds like a mouse whose parachute didn't open," Keith wheezed as they sprinted side by side, and Lance was startled when Keith threw his head back, dark hair flying, and _laughed_.

Breathless chuckles bubbled from Lance's throat but were abruptly cut off when a long-fingered hand closed over his own and he was yanked into a small dark space.

"H--"

Keith slapped a hand over his mouth as they stood there in the darkness, eyes slowly adjusting. The closet smelled like the lemony air freshener Coran used, and gradually Lance could make out Keith's features as he put his ear to the door, listening.

"Did you just drag us into a broom closet?" he asked, when he caught his breath. Keith met his eyes from where he was crouched by the door.

"...no?"

It set them off. Lance's shoulders shook in silent laughter as he watched Keith fold his hands over his mouth, trying not to cry. The laughter died away, leaving them in comfortable silence. Lance abruptly became aware of the fact that Keith's face was _inches_ from his own, and even in the darkness, he could see a lot of things.

Keith's cheeks were flushed pink, probably from running the entire length of the hall. There were freckles faintly scattered over Keith's nose and cheekbones. Sixteen of them.

"Wait a second." Keith raised a finger and started pulling on the hard fabric on his hands. "I need to take these off."

"You have tan lines," Lance said, snickering, when the gloves finally came off. He wasn't wrong. Those tan lines were _atrocious_. Any self-respecting Cuban would've hated them.

Keith just scowled and flexed his hands. Lance's snickers abruptly died away when he noticed the light dusting of freckles over the knuckles of Keith's fine-boned hands as well, but he covered it up with a scoff.

"So, um. When do we get out?"

Keith blinked. "Shiro's gonna find us if we leave, or Allura's gonna make us remove the pictures."

Lance pored over it for a while, trying to ignore the oddly fresh fragrance Keith's jacket smelled like--like a combination of forest air and the crisp smell of snow.

Ridiculous. He'd be smelling Keith's hair next.

_(It did look very soft, and the guy probably used three-in-one shampoo!)_

"Think we should camp out here for a few days?"

"Yep."

.

.

.

It took Lance several days to remember the promise he'd made to himself--in between back-to-back missions and chores and chill sessions--his promise to be nice to Keith. But when he thought about it, he'd started that very day--the trend of being nice to Keith. Almost unconsciously, in fact.

They were already teammates, watching each other's backs along with everyone else, so it wasn't even hard to take a few more hits for the guy. If he was being honest, that day on Tyrolia untwisted his perception of Keith.

Now, instead of seeing someone who went out of his way to get into trouble with enemy forces, he saw a guy who purposefully drew the gunfire away from the team. It was—well, he still got annoyed by it. Keith was still _annoying_ with his hero complex, but with Lance's competitive streak, somehow this mutated into him tailing Keith, flanking Red and covering his ass whenever he needed it.

Lance never realized it until Hunk pointed it out, a suspiciously sly smile on his face.

"You guys make a good team, don't you?"

"Shut it, Hunk." _Yeah, we do._

"Or what?" Hunk grinned.

"Or I'll toss that cinnamon substitute you've been hoarding for a while now into space."

The offended expression on Hunk's face made him laugh and even Pidge cracked up, but the thought had been implanted into his head. It was too late.

They _did_ make a good team.

.

.

.

"You reckless little asshole."

In another universe, Lance was sure that Keith was an anime protagonist, neon green hair, cheetah-print eyes and all. If they were close to a window, he was a hundred percent sure that Keith would've been staring broodily out of it.

Without even looking, Lance could tell Keith was scowling. "Could you go a little easy on the antiseptic? You're going to burn my skin off."

"Oh, hush, mullet. I used to do this all the time for my siblings. You have no idea how many times Nadia's fallen off her roller blades. One time Sylvio leaped over something and knocked over like three bookshelves and he still has that dent in his head."

This became routine now. It was common for the paladins to walk into the lounge and see either Lance or Keith bandaging the other up, because both of them were reckless idiots in battle who didn't care for their own lives.

"Goddammit, Iverson," Shiro had yelled once when he'd walked in on Keith tending to a particularly nasty scratch on Lance's shoulder.

"You have _got_ to stop invoking his name like that."

Shiro had cocked an eyebrow. "Well, he assigned me as your mentor, so this is all his fault."

"Not Keith's fault?" Lance had suggested, and received a glare from Keith. Shiro had pointed his mug at him--Lance could smell very, _very_ strong coffee fumes--and nodded solemnly.

"Yes. Absolutely."

.

.

.

Even chores with the guy became less of a trial.

When Allura had guilt-tripped Lance into doing chores, he wasn't particularly irritated to find Keith swiping madly at the display board when he got to the bridge. The room was dark, the castle in night mode, and the only illumination was the cyan light from the holograms.

Keith's hair looked almost blue in this light.

"So, what do we have to do?"

Keith turned around, blinking in surprise, but nodded towards the board. "Apparently these star systems haven't been catalogued in ten thousand years, so." He let out a light snicker when Lance groaned, loudly and dramatically.

"Ugh. You'd think with all this fancy tech they would've found a way to automatically sort these systems."

"We just have to title what quadrant it's in and put it in a folder," Keith told him, without looking away from the hologram he was standing over. "They're mostly galaxies of stars, nor planets."

"Ex-oh-fifty-six," Lance read out from the hologram he pulled him on another board. Keith spared him a glance as he sorted another system into a far-off quadrant.

In the anemic blue light of the holograms, Keith's eyes looked an odd but beautiful shade of purple, like shifting storms made of swirling constellations.

_(Gee, Lance, poetic much?)_

"What happened to this planet?"

Lance looked sideways to see Keith staring at a grainy image of a planet on fire. It looked like it was being torched from the inside, and he winced internally.

"D'you think the Galra burned it down?"

He spotted an odd flicker passing through those stormy eyes before it disappeared.

"I don't know," Keith said slowly, fingers hovering over the board. His eyes were unfocused; he was looking at the picture but his mind was far, far away. Something in Lance's gut twisted.

"Hey, you okay?"

Keith blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." There was a slight wobble to his voice, but Lance didn't question it.

"You lost someone to fire?" he cursed his word vomit the very moment he saw Keith stiffen, eyes glazing over again. "Shit, I-I mean, um--"

"Yeah." Keith's brows furrowed for a second as he stared unseeingly at the planet. "Pretty shitty when you realize the red lion is the guardian of fire."

"Oh shit," Lance blurted, abandoning the idea of tact completely. His eyes drifted towards Keith's wrists, where he was absently scratching at the skin beneath his gloves.

The soulmate mark. Lance had almost forgotten about those.

In his eagerness to befriend--or tolerate--Keith, he'd forgotten about his soulmate.

Well, didn't _that_ say something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theory: Coran finds out Keith made a hole in the wall, and because he's so resigned to all the paladin nonsense, he takes the White Dad approach. Goes to Queen Melenor's art rooms, grabs a picture frame, and sticks it over the hole so Allura won't notice and go ballistic. 
> 
> Keith wakes up to see an almost wall-size photo of Allura's Gran-Gran staring at him with knitting needles in her hands and almost falls off the bed.


	3. flipped

The first time Lance said, 'great job, man!' when Keith barreled his lion into a couple of fighter drones, he thought he'd misheard.

But he hadn't. He definitely hadn't.

He'd even talked to Hunk about it, wandering into Yellow's hangar while Hunk was busy fiddling with a very greasy mechanical tube.

"Hey, Lance is...mentally alright, right?"

Hunk didn't seem to register at first, then his head popped up and he stared at him. "Excuse me?"

Keith flushed. "I mean, he's not mad at me or something?" It would be just like Lance to do this--be nice to Keith, mess with his emotions, and withdraw suddenly in a fit of passive-aggression. "He's--he's being weirdly nice to me lately."

Oddly enough, Hunk's lips quirked into a smile before it was replaced by a blank look.

"He's fine. He's just being himself."

"Being himself," Keith repeated slowly, brain short-circuiting. If this was Lance being himself, did that mean he was acting out of character when he was being rude to Keith? That seemed the only logical explanation. "I--okay."

Hunk must have seen something on his face, because a volley of words spurted from his mouth.

"No, I mean, he's--he's just being nice. It's not, um, _abnormal_."

 _It's not normal either, is it,_ Keith wanted to say. He didn't say it, obviously. Instead, he just gave a 'huh' that sounded rather spacey and turned abruptly on his heel.

"Thanks, Hunk."

.

.

.

"Hey, do you wanna train?"

Keith blinked and looked up from the book he'd been skimming--an Altean romance novel he'd borrowed from a pink-cheeked Allura who had admitted that romance books were a weakness--to see Lance, standing in the doorway of the lounge, dressed in civilian clothes and hefting his bayard in one hand.

"With me?" seemed to be the only thing to come out of his mouth. Lance rolled his eyes and sauntered inside.

"No, with that book you're holding. Yeah, _you_."

Keith refrained from making a scoff at the weak attempt at sarcasm and tossed his book aside. "Sure. What are you thinking?"

Lance looked thoughtful. "I was thinking an intelligence extraction mission, because you know, none of us are too great at being discreet except maybe Shiro and Pidge."

"Pidge only because she's tiny," Keith muttered. Lance snickered, and he willed himself not to blush. He couldn't help the tips of his ears, though hopefully they were covered by his hair.

"Yeah, I'm telling her that."

"You don't have any proof, but okay." Intelligence and extraction. All it required was a healthy amount of stealth, and Keith had plenty of that. All he had to do was put it to use. "As a team?"

Lance paused for a second--Keith could literally see the cogs turning in his head--and a light blush coated his cheeks (though for what reason, he didn't know) before he received a chipper 'yep.'

They walked side by side to the training room, shoulder to shoulder. Keith's mind was whirling, wondering whether they'd ever had this much contact _ever_. The lights flickered on when they stepped through, and Lance slipped away to make his way over to the control panel. Keith trailed behind him, watching as he punched in a selection.

"Enemy ship _with_ bots that can track our location _and_ a time limit?" Keith asked, slightly taken aback by the difficulty level. Lance shot him a grin (that was totally not unfairly attractive) over his shoulder.

"What, can't handle it?"

Keith rolled his eyes and switched his bayard to the other hand. Lance was baiting him, and both of them knew that. "Whatever makes you feel better."

Lance just grinned again and pressed the final button. The lights instantly dimmed and the floor dropped away from them, making Keith's stomach jump into his mouth like it did every time a new simulation was cast.

They were in a dark, dimly lit hallway. Purple, shades of purple everywhere. A glowing sign glimmering on every other ceiling beam. The only other color was from their suits and the cyan schematic Lance pulled up on his gauntlet.

"Gotta give it to them," Lance muttered, as his bayard turned into a blaster. "The Galra are sure faithful to their aesthetic."

Keith couldn't help the snort that escaped his lips. Lance grinned, evidently pleased with himself. "Got a plan, samurai?"

( _Samurai_. Keith supposed it fit. He was East Asian and wielded a sword, sometimes two at a time. Fair enough.)

"Back to back sound good?" he asked. A glint took over Lance's eye, one strangely wicked, and he nodded. No other words were needed. They'd done this a hundred times.

They walked down the hallway with soft, careful, soundless steps. Keith's swords were drawn, and Lance turned every sharp corner with his blaster pointed outwards and finger on the trigger, ready to fire if anyone came barreling down it.

"Control room--" the room they needed to get their 'info' from. "--is full of drones," Lance said into his helmet.

"I'll get the info and you pick them off?" Keith answered. It was either the comms or the strangely realistic features of the simulation that made his voice echo.

"Roger that."

"Coran would probably hate that sentence," was the only mutter he got, before Keith turned the corner. Lance stifled a chuckle into his helmet. He could almost _hear_ Coran's many questions.

_Who would Roger be? Is he critical to the mission? Is it a first name? A common one on Earth? What's his last name?_

They turned the corner into the control room, and Keith set off like a bullet from a gun. The drones immediately turned to attack him, and Lance set his blaster to his shoulder and picked them off one by one. Keith occasionally slashed and ducked here if they got too close, but otherwise just barreled through the crowd, dodging Lance's shots. Electricity and adrenaline thrummed in his veins, the result of glowing success. They were _killing_ this. He threw his sword at a drone, completely _ripping_ it apart.

" _Shit_ , Red, right for the heart-- _ruthless_."

 _Red?_ It didn't register for a second. _A nickname? A code-name? Lance giving me...a nice name?_

"Duck!"

Without hesitation, Keith dropped to his knees. A bullet went soaring over his head--he could feel the searing heat almost singing the end of his hair--and knocking away a drone.

"That was, um, fast."

Keith tapped away at the display board he'd finally reached, trying to do the decryption as quickly as possible without damaging the 'files'. "You told me to duck."

"Yeah, but--"

"Did I not do it fast enough?"

" _Fast en_ \--" came a splutter. "You know what, just get the in-- _fuck!"_

Keith whirled around just in time to see a drone knock Lance's bayard out of his hands. The blaster went flying down an air shaft, and without a second thought, Keith picked up his bayard sword and threw it at the drone, impaling it through the back. From the other end of the room, Lance looked at him with wide eyes. Keith could imagine those bright blue irises, even from fifty feet away.

"Use that," he said briefly.

Lance pulled the sword out of the drone and held it gingerly as it turned into a blaster, only with red accents instead of blue. "But you'll be unarmed. You _hate_ being unarmed."

Keith just shrugged and tapped a few other buttons. The timer on his suit gave them ten more minutes before they were swarmed by droids.

"I don't need a weapon. I've got you."

Another splutter. " _What the actual fuck_ \--" Lance broke off and Keith turned out to glance at him cautiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you have a blaster in your hands, then I don't need to worry about my safety."

Keith realized what he'd said only after Lance's cheeks bloomed bright red, visible even across the room. The words were unsaid-- _you've got me covered._

His own cheeks were aflame.

"You trust me with this?" Lance's question was quiet. Keith turned around, not trusting his expression, and was relieved to hear his voice come out unwavering.

"If there's anyone I trust with a gun, it's you." _Or with anything that aims and fires, really._

A beep brought him back to reality. The file had been decrypted. Keith slammed his palm down on the ID hold and pulled out the little memory drive, pocketing it. He stuck his finger up in the air in a silent thumbs-up.

Another beep from his gauntlet said that the timer had run out.

"Move, move, move!" Lance had evidently been warned of the same thing.

Keith tore off, running through the corridors and feeling oddly exposed without his bayard. The blaster fire from behind him--a steady volley of shots that never missed once--was reassuring. He tripped and dodged the droids, grabbed the spear from one and swept a few aside.

"To your left!" Lance shouted. "Exit's left!"

Keith swerved. Behind him, he could hear Lance's labored breaths and thudding footsteps. A bright red light blinded him and he skidded to a stop ahead of a door.

SIMULATION COMPLETED.

"We did it," Lance said, almost in disbelief. "Keith, _we did it."_

Keith looked over at him. "I'm aware?"

"Holy shit, Keith!" Lance was vibrating with excitement, and Keith would be lying if he said it wasn't infectious. "A mission meant for a team of five. We fucking did it."

"That's the third time you've said it now," Keith observed, though with a little bit of amusement. Lance continued to bounce on his heels, and almost as if on an impulse, Keith reached out and dug his fingers into his ribs.

A high-pitched yell. Lance jumped forward and glared at Keith, who just grinned.

"Keith, no, don't you--"

Keith stuck out his arms and Lance hopped backwards. "Kieran dies!" he shouted. Keith froze and lowered his arms.

"You _didn't_ ," he breathed. Lance nodded vigorously, still eyeing his fingers.

"I'll spoil more if you--Red!"

There was that nickname again. Keith ignored the slight pulse of pleasure in his chest and dove forward, digging his sharp fingers into every part of Lance he could reach. Lance squirmed and laughed helplessly.

"They were dating!" Keith exclaimed. "What happens to Isafel?"

Lance shoved him off and scrambled upright, darting towards the door. Keith followed, hot on his heels.

"Lance! What happens to--" A trivial romance book character Keith didn't really care about. All he cared about was following that raucous laughter as it trailed away, down the hallway.

He gave chase.

.

.

.

"So, how was it?" Hunk asked. Lance wore an ear-to-ear grin, cheeks flushed with exertion and panting.

"Great, actually. I think we just set a new record."

"And you didn't argue?"

"Not even once. Although he tickled me, and I spoiled a major plot point in his book, and we kicked each other around the room a little."

" _Lance_."

.

.

.

After that one training session--and all the moments they'd had in between--Keith's life as red paladin was a little easier. Sure, he and Lance were nowhere as close to each other as Lance and Hunk were, or Keith and Pidge, but at least now there was _some_ common ground. They bandaged each other up, trained side by side more often than neck-and-neck, and occasionally pulled pranks on Shiro and Allura whenever things around the Castle got a little slow.

All of a sudden, their dynamic got flipped on its head. Oh, sure, the jostling and snarking was still there, but Lance didn't go out of his way to make things annoying for Keith. This in turn, made it _a hundred_ times easier for Keith to understand him. It was easier for him to pick up on Lance's jokes and humor, when they weren't sarcastic quips that had him mistaking them for criticism. Easier to talk when Lance seemed to finally get that Keith wasn't being deliberately obtuse. Instances of them fighting became practically non-existent, replaced with good-natured ribbing and overzealous sparring.

But the recent change wasn't limited to just Keith and Lance.

The team had started to take notice, and more often than not, it was _Keith and Lance_ who were sent for missions. _Keith and Lance_ who went on diplomatic meetings, _Keith and Lance_ who did joint chores when it came to their turn. The paladins even began to refer to them as a pair, because whatever Keith was involved in, Lance was involved in, and vice versa.

Unluckily, that meant Shiro also noticed. And Shiro noticing was Not Good for Keith.

"You guys need to stop bickering or else _I will turn this gigantic alien conglomeration around_."

Lance and Keith, who had been arguing over the merits of the upside-down Altean swimming pool, turned to Shiro, who was wearing a mildly threatening look.

"Sure thing, dad," Keith heard Pidge mutter from somewhere in the corner, and stifled a snort. Lance didn't have such luck, and a giggle escaped his lips before he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Shiro's lips twitched. "Alright, now Lance, Keith, I need you to find which star system Zenia is in. There's a meeting scheduled tomorrow, because there are two tribes of the Zenians who are battling for power, and there need to be two paladins of Voltron present, at _least_."

"Why them?" Pidge protested. "Why not Hunk and me?"

Lance sent Pidge a stink-eye. She stuck her tongue out. Allura looked mildly horrified.

"Because Keith and Lance work well together and get things done fast." Shiro didn't look away from the hologram he was pulling up. "They're stupidly competitive to the point of recklessness, and if they're _going_ to make my hair go white, then I might as well get my money's worth."

Lance pulled a face.

"Besides, you don't _really_ want to go," Shiro added, looking at Pidge. "You just want to complain."

"Alright, alright," Pidge grumbled, slouching. "No need for the call-out."

Shiro transferred his piercing look to the red and blue paladins. "Get to work, chop chop. Just because you're going to be preventing fights from happening doesn't mean you can't learn up on their culture." He caught Keith's eye and smiled in a smug, knowing way. Keith stared back blankly.

"Okay?" He got up, walking towards the door. "Lance, come on."

Lance gave a loud, dramatic groan that had Keith suppressing a smile. "Race you to the detainment room!" he said suddenly, and Keith instinctively stepped out of the way as he zoomed past.

Shiro grinned, the beginnings of an evil look breaking over his features, which, although handsome, were nothing short of devilish now. Keith pointed a finger at him.

"Oh, don't even _start_."

He dashed off after Lance--the faster he got out of Shiro's sight, the faster he could tamp down that uneasy feeling of _what am I doing what the fuck am I doing_ \--and actually get to the room.

His footsteps slowed by the time he got there. Lance had already long reached, and was crouched on the floor, knees drawn to his chest, rifling through the files.

"Hey, you okay?"

Lance didn't answer for a while. Slowly, he raised his head. His blue eyes looked even brighter in the cyan light.

"How many stars do you think there are out there?"

Keith didn't hesitate. "Infinities."

"You think I'll be able to name them all, one day?" Lance's voice was small, chin buried in the crook of his elbows, eyes facing forwards. Keith wordlessly took a seat on the floor next to him.

"If we try, maybe."

"Wanna try?" There was a remnant of the mischievous glint Lance's eyes normally carried, shining there. "Zenia's in Blitz-404."

"Alright then." Keith shrugged. Lance perked up and turned to him.

"So, Altor three-one."

"Altor three-one," Keith repeated.

"Xena one zero five six."

They stayed like that for several hours, just learning the galaxies. But by the time they called it a day, Keith felt like he'd learned the emotions in Lance's eyes way better than the pitiful quadrant of space they'd covered.

Lance's eyes were easier to read, anyway.

.

.

.

"How was your session?" Shiro asked teasingly, when Keith trudged out of his room at three in the morning--well, at the time it _should_ have been three in the morning. Keith didn't ask why Shiro was up and Shiro didn't ask him either. He just took a seat in his chair on the bridge and threw Shiro a glare.

"Shut up or I'll express-mail you to Zarkon in a cardboard box."

"Can't be worse than Black whining about his sweaty hands," Shiro mused, and dodged the pencil Keith lobbed at him with a chortle. "I'm serious. How did it go?"  
  
Keith's scowl faded slowly and a--well, not a smile, but something that definitely _wasn't_ a frown took over.  
  
"How do you think?"  
  
And if the look on Keith's face was softer than it should've been, Shiro said nothing about it.


	4. night fears

"That beats your record," Lance told Hunk, smirking. He threw his rifle over one shoulder and prodded Hunk in the ribs with his free elbow. Hunk frowned, rubbing his side.  
  
"You're not pretty when you gloat, man."  
  
Pidge scowled. "You beat us, by like, ten minutes."  
  
"Still," Lance singsonged, throwing an arm around her. Pidge didn't shrug it off. "You can do a lot of things in ten minutes."

"Like what?" she challenged. Lance pretended to be thinking. 

"Oh, I don't know. An intelligence extraction mission of two--" he caught Keith's eye from across the room, over the rim of the hydration pouch Keith was drinking, and received a small grin. "Eat a meal, get a blowjob--"

Pidge spluttered, dropping the tech she was holding. Hunk slapped his hands over his mouth, and on the other side of the room, Keith had buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking. Lance didn't bother to tamp down that pleasurable feeling in his stomach every time he made Keith laugh--(a.) he didn't regret it, and (b.) he couldn't really deny the rush of happiness he felt when Keith wore a smile.

"What was that last one?" Pidge asked, once she'd gotten her composure back. Lance didn't break eye contact with Keith, watching for his reaction. 

"Eat a meal." He winked. 

Keith's cheeks went bright red and he dropped his head so his bangs covered his eyes. Lance caught himself thinking, _cute_. 

When Keith raised his head again, he was wearing that deadpan expression, although the corners of his lips twitched as laughter threatened to break his flat manner. Lance didn't understand what about it he'd found so annoying before, because right now, all he could think was _cute_.

Next to Keith, Shiro was struggling to maintain his Proper Leader facade, but cracking fast. Eventually, he turned towards the wall, a hand pressed over his mouth like he was trying not to chortle at Lance's inappropriate jokes.

Lance hadn't thought about his soulmate in weeks now. He'd always imagined that meeting his soulmate or falling in love would be like falling off a cliff--slowly, and then all at once. 

When he looked at Keith, there he went, hurtling off that edge.

.

.

.

"Hey, Keith," Lance said, settling down on the lounge couch opposite Keith. "I have question, but you don't have to answer it immediately."

"Shoot," Keith said. His eyes were still on that book he was reading, but the alert tilt of his head told Lance he was listening. 

"Have you met your soulmate?"

Keith raised his eyes--unfairly, oddly beautiful indigo eyes--to meet Lance's. He looked hesitant.

"You don't have to answer," Lance said hastily. "I just--I just wanted to, you know." He was stupid, asking the most reticent out of all the paladins the most personal question there was.

"No, it's fine." There was a small furrow in Keith's brow that Lance wanted to smooth with his thumb. "I--not yet. I wish I'd meet him soon, is all." There was a hopeful glimmer to his eye that left Lance slightly shocked. 

"You do?"

"Yeah." Keith's eyes dropped to the cover of his book, unseeing. "I-I think it'll be nice to have someone who, you know, won't leave."

 _Shit, Red, you_ really _want to make me cry, don't you?_

"What about you?" Keith ventured. Lance hummed. 

"No. I'm not particularly looking forward to it, either." _Not if what Rachel said is true._

"Oh." There was a strange inflection to Keith's tone that had Lance giving him a sharp look.

"What was that 'oh?'"

"Nothing." Keith shook his head. "I was just...surprised, I guess."

"Meaning?" Lance asked, with a little more edge to his voice than necessary. He saw surprise flash in Keith's eyes before he shrugged.

"I mean, no offense, but if there was anyone I'd think looked forward to the whole soulmate bond thing, it would be you. You flirt with anything that moves." 

Okay, that was true. Harsh, but true.

Lance nodded. "You know what, I can't blame you for that."

Keith gave him a small smile over the edge of the book, and they sank into comfortable silence. Honestly, Lance didn't want to find his soulmate, but he thought that this silence, this natural bond that he and Keith had meant more than any insta-love words on his wrist could give him.

.

.

.

Every way Keith looked, he was trapped. 

What sounded like ambient instrumental music filled the large hall, and royals and nobles dressed in luxurious robes were gliding on each side of him, twirling around him, talking over him--just everywhere. 

He'd caught sight of Pidge before--she'd been freaking out over one of the serving bots and trying not to get her dress caught on its claws while Hunk chatted up one of the nobles and attempted to get them to divulge their secret recipe for space tacos. He could see Allura and Shiro in the distance, elbows linked. Allura had needed a dance partner, and apparently, Shiro fit the bill. They both were dressed accordingly to custom, Allura in a breezy pink dress of some thin, floating material, and Shiro in an infuriatingly good-looking tuxedo. 

Lance was nowhere in sight, Keith noticed, before he even realized he was looking for him. 

Eh. He was probably somewhere chatting up one of the pretty girls. As uninterested in women Keith was, he could appreciate beauty, and both the men and women of Pentox were alarmingly beautiful. There were no sexually dimorphous characteristics of the Lumera, and Keith had already misgendered several of them before he learnt to ask for preferred pronouns accompanied with profuse apologies. 

He went hot and cold all over just at the thought of that embarrassment. 

He tugged uncomfortably at the cropped red jacket Coran had made him wear. The Altean royal garments, which they had all donned, were beautiful but impractical. Keith always felt uneasy if he wasn't wearing something that didn't allow him to run or attack. 

_"Jesus Christ, Red, I can see you tensing up from here."_

The voice in his comms was sassy and playful and very much _Lance_. Keith suppressed a smile and looked upward at the balconies that overlooked the ballroom. He caught a flash of tanned brown skin and a bright blue dress jacket before the voice spoke again.

_"You've got a fan club."_

Keith looked to the one place he'd been avoiding when Lance pointed it out. A group of Lumera, male and female (and neither) teenagers alike, tittered and waved flirtatiously. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, though not out of pleasure. 

"Good for them," he responded, trying not to move his lips so much so it wouldn't be obvious that he was talking to a teammate. Lance's responding snickers made a smile curve over his face, although it quickly faded when one of the Lumera--Keith _still_ had no idea what gender they were--broke off from the group and approached him. 

"Are they a he or she?" he hissed, right before they reached him. Laughter was his answer. Keith frowned. 

"Well met, red paladin." Their voice was soft and silky, as if it had been worn smooth by constant use, like a pebble smoothed by the waves of the ocean.

They were slick, he had to give them that. 

"Well met," Keith responded, keeping his tone polite but stiff. They weren't deterred, inside sliding a soft hand onto his forearm. A few feet away, their friend group were watching avidly. 

"You may call me Fora." So, _female_. Keith was sure they were a she. It was a surprisingly human name. "A name fitting such a lovely person must be beautiful indeed."

_Don't retch. Don't retch. Don't retch._

Coran had warned them about the Lumera. Names and words were power. Don't tell them your name, tell them what they may call you, and they won't have power over you. 

"You can call me Akira." 

Fora made a pleased noise, her iridescent green eyes glittering with flirtatious amusement. "A beautiful name for a beautiful individual."

"Thanks," Keith muttered, managing to free his arm of her grasp. Fora was unflappable. 

"And are you here alone?" she pursued. "Unattached? Single?"

_Goddammit, Iverson._

"I, um," Keith said eloquently. "No." Fora's eyes widened. "I'm here with..."

"Me." 

Keith could've cried with relief when he saw Lance's bright blue eyes and blue ensemble tuxedo weaving through the crowd to stand by his side. Fora's sultry smile fell, and so did the faces of the Lumera teenagers in the corner. Keith didn't care, though, and mirrored the encouraging smile Lance was flashing with a weak one of his own. 

"My humblest apologies--" the guy was _good_ at this. "--but our leader requires Akira for some business. Right hand of Voltron and all." He sent Fora a look that was both easy and firm, and Keith felt two fingers circle his wrist, a hand hovering just above the small of his back, as he was towed through the crowd and away from the hungry gazes of his 'fans.'

The general noise of the crowd faded into the distance as they walked through the halls of the palace, cool air hitting them as they ventured further into the stone corridors. Once they were completely alone, Lance turned around and grinned at Keith. 

"Sorry for that, I figured you needed an out. You looked like you wanted to stab her and bolt."

 _So they_ were _a she--!_

Keith ignored that slight feeling of triumph and sent Lance his most grateful expression. He could still feel the lingering traces of a smooth callused hand on his back, and flushed. 

"Thanks. I--I probably would've booked it if she started asking more questions."

Lance nodded, a grin on his face, and Keith noticed that two brown fingers were still grasped around his wrist. Lance didn't seem to notice. 

Keith should've wanted to pull away. Should have wanted to snap and recoil, should have thought about his elusive soulmate. 

Instead, all he felt was _safe_. 

And when it hit him that maybe he wouldn't have a problem with Lance being his soulmate, even if he technically wasn't, all he felt was contentment.

.

.

.

The wind whipped at Keith's hair. He took a breath. It smelt like honey and wood smoke, like dryness and something familiar. It smelled like his dad's old sweaters. He was standing in a field, grass all around him, and there was a small cottage in front of him. 

As unnatural and impossible as this scene was--he couldn't possibly be here, he was supposed to be a paladin, supposed to on the Castle ship, supposed to protect as much of the universe as he was physically able--Keith relaxed. This was home, after all. If he was going to be here, he was going to make the best of it. 

"Keith!" 

Suddenly, he wasn't standing in green grass anymore. It was dry and yellow, crackling under his shoes, and the house in front of him was blazing with flames hungrily licking at the porch and up the walls. He could see sparks and ash floating around, even if it was dark outside, and flurried, neon yellow activity. 

Firefighters. 

He trusted firemen. His dad was one--had been one. 

But as he watched, panic rose in his throat. This--this was something else. The shout of 'there's a kid in there' made everyone move faster. Two firemen, jackets smoking, ran out with a skinny little kid in their arms. 

"Daddy!" 

He recognized that cry. It was his own. It _had been_ his own.

Instantly, there were hands on him, restraining Keith from running into the house. Comforting murmurs flooded him on all sides, trying to calm him down, but this time, Keith was bigger. He was six feet tall and heavily muscled, unlike the skinny kid he'd been the last time. He was larger than the female firefighter grasping his biceps, and capable of shaking her off and running into the flames. 

They were scorching, just like he remembered. 

The heat was suffocating, the air blurred in front of his eyes, and instantly the flight-or-flight response he'd so carefully honed sprung to action. But he ran in further, way further than his instincts said was necessary, because his dad was here, his dad was alive, _maybe if Keith went a bit faster he could save his dad--_

"Red!"

That wasn't his dad. Was it Shiro? No, that was--that was _Lance_.

Keith breathed into his elbow, trying to blink past the burning and tears in his eyes and his runny nose, and dodged a falling beam. Lance's voice was bombarding him from all sides--

_Red. Red. Red. RED. Over here. RED._

The flames were red and orange and yellow and white and all around him and Keith couldn't _breathe_ \--

_You promised you'd have my back._

There was a growl, coming from somewhere. Keith didn't know where. 

_Guardian of fire, you fear your own element?_

_This isn't my element!_ he wanted to scream. _This is yours! It was never mine!  
_

_Maybe I chose wrong, then._

Fire is a monster. Fire destroys. Fire devastates. Fire takes, and takes, and _takes_.

Keith wanted nothing to do with fire.

It had taken too much.

He woke up, sheets tangled in a vice around his body, face wet with tears when he touched it. For a second, Keith struggled to get out of the blankets, like they were flames threatening to reduce him to ashes. 

He needed water.


	5. chill session

It took Lance several seconds to register that there was somebody banging on his door, hard and frequent. 

His first reaction was to be scared, but this made him pause. The doors were automated. They slid open with the password input, and even then, not all of his teammates were as polite as to ask for permission. 

Allura and Coran were out of the question, of course, although they were delicate enough to clear their throat before entering a room. Hunk and Pidge had absolutely no qualms about barging in and tossing themselves on his bed--which, fair, all three of them had siblings and were used to disturbances. Shiro knocked one, twice, then called their names. So the only person it could possibly be was--

Keith.

Lance almost tripped over his lion slippers getting to the door, and when it slid open, he just stared. 

It was Keith, so he'd been correct. But what it _wasn't_ was a Keith who looked completely okay. His dark hair was sticking up in all places and his hands were trembling slightly and there were dark bags under his eyes, but the thing that struck Lance the hardest was his eyes. 

They were dark, no longer violet but an alarming indigo. The pupils were dilated and taking up all of the iris, and his eyes were blown wide with caution and fear. 

"Dude, you look like a wreck. What's wrong?" The quip had sounded sarcastic when he thought about it, but there was a strong edge of worry lining his voice. Lance raised a hand impulsively for his fingers to graze Keith's jawline; Keith flinched at first, but didn't move. 

"I--" Those indigo eyes were searching him, as if trying to make sure he was real and completely present. It was unnerving. "Never mind, it's stupid."

"Hey, hey, hey." Lance grabbed his wrist just as Keith turned away, and spun him around gently. Keith looked at him from between his bangs, chewing on his raw and reddened bottom lip that looked seconds away from splitting. "It's alright. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Didn't sleep well?"

"No," Keith managed, and Lance reached out and prodded his lip before he could think about it. 

"No biting."

Keith immediately stopped, but Lance was too worried--and sleep-deprived--to blush about the fact that he'd just poked Keith in _his very soft lip_. That was a problem for future Lance. 

Joke's on him, any version of Lance was a sucker.

For a second, Lance just wanted to hug Keith. It was a completely, totally platonic urge, because even if Keith had chipped away at his defenses and made him completely soft, he was just so _small_ , curling in on himself like that--

"Wanna do a mask with me?"

Keith blinked. Lance couldn't blame him. It was probably the most ridiculous thing he'd heard since, well--yesterday had been pretty ridiculous, but still.

"A mask?" Keith croaked. Lance just shrugged and nodded; he'd offered, maybe he could relax with Keith and squeeze in a little bonding time as well.

"Yeah, get in here."

Keith awkwardly stumbled in and Lance pushed him to a sitting position on the bed, but only after he'd swept away the various knickknacks that covered the sheets. 

"I've got honey and lemon, cucumber clay, and cinnamon," Lance called over his shoulder as he rooted in the box he'd stuffed under his bed. "Which one?"

Keith blinked again, whether sleepily or not. "Um, cinnamon?" He frowned when Lance tossed one of the labeled packets at him. "Where did you even _get_ these?"

"Space mall. You wouldn't believe it, but skin care is a universal concern," Lance said, with a pointed look. The corners of Keith's lips curled upward wryly, but that was all. "Alright, first, you gotta wash your face." He tossed a green leaf-patterned headband he'd stolen from Pidge at Keith and tugged the cheetah-print one over his own head. 

Keith just put it on very dubiously and obliged, going into the bathroom to wash his face. He looked something close to adorable, with his dark hair pushed back from his forehead and sticking up under the headband. Lance heard a gasp, a clatter, and a sound of disbelief, and laughed under his breath.

"Are all of these really necessary?" Keith's voice floated out, echoing from the bathroom. "There's like, twenty bottles and things, and that's only the ones on the sink."

"Yes," Lance said firmly, squeezing next to Keith and handing him one of the bottles. "Face wash."

It was unfair, really, how smooth and flawless Keith's skin was despite him probably only washing it once in a few days. If Lance had done that (the horror) his skin would be greasy and covered in zits already. 

Except for the freckles. 

Keith resurfaced from the sink and rubbed his face dry with the nearest towel before looking expectantly at Lance. The bridge of his sharp, delicate nose was slightly brown and sunburned, freckles scattered among the flush from the cold water. 

"What now?" 

Lance waved the packet of cinnamon face mask at him. "We mix this baby with water and have you smelling like a Cinnabon in no time."  
  
He counted it as a win when Keith snickered.

"Do you wanna do it or should I?" he asked, watching him carefully. Keith looked at the little bowl and back to Lance's hands, seemingly calculating the pros and cons. Eventually, he shrugged. 

"You should."

Yeah, the problem about that was, Lance didn't know whether he'd be able to go smearing stuff all over Keith's face without blushing. 

But he did so anyway. 

Keith winced slightly when Lance slid the smooth paste over his cheeks, back stiff, and then slowly relaxed as he got used to the temperature. His eyes fluttered shut (complete with unfairly long eyelashes) and Lance had to suppress the flare of satisfaction that jumped in his chest--Keith never closed his eyes around anyone, never let his guard down even once, so it was almost physically impossible to sneak up on him. But here he was, eyes shut and breathing slow, as Lance smoothed the mask over his soft skin. He trusted Lance. He'd _chosen_ to trust Lance. 

_If there's anyone I trust with a gun, it's you._

Lance kept his expression steady, even though Keith couldn't see him. 

He hadn't forgotten how close he'd gotten to Keith in the past few weeks. Sure, the whole thing had started off as a game, but he had slowly chipped away at Lance's defenses until he'd properly softened, without even realizing it. They'd made an effort to actively seek each other out instead of resigning themselves to the other's company when they were forced together, and if anyone noticed that they always, always sat next to each other for anything, they said nothing. 

Yeah, the penny had dropped one fine debriefing meeting for Lance. Keith had been angrily muttering about Shiro and the way he tended to big-brother them all, especially Keith himself, and Lance had thought, _I could kiss him to shut him up._

_What? No! Huh? Oh my god._

He hadn't been able to meet Keith's eye for the rest of the evening without flushing in embarrassment.

A crush was simple. Easy to navigate. Lance had done it many times before. But the thought of his soulmate was like a guillotine waiting to drop. They each had their own soulmates, he was aware, and one day Keith would meet his Mr. Red Lion, but until then, Lance was content with what they had. 

_(Even if he wanted more--)_

He'd take what he could get.

Keith took his time opening his eyes when Lance sat back, satisfied with his work. Almost immediately, his nose wrinkled under the reddish brown paste and a finger went up to prod it. Lance smacked it away. 

"No touching."

The pout he got in return was unreal. 

"Do you want me to do yours, now?" Keith asked, reaching out for the bowl where Lance had mixed in own mask--one labeled _Ocean Dew_ in obnoxiously hard-to-read cursive. He had a real mind to march to the manufacturers and demand for something more dyslexia-friendly.

Jesus, everything from the pout to the grabby hands was just engineered to absolutely fucking _murder_ Lance.

_Kill me now, world. Take me. Drive me over so I don't have to tolerate Keith's adorableness._

But Lance continued like Keith's sleepy face wasn't digging his heart out. "Sure thing." He passed it to Keith, who stuck a finger into the creamy consistency and wrinkled his nose. 

Lance focused on the space between Keith's furrowed eyebrows, his nose, his freckles--anywhere but his eyes. Keith didn't notice; he was completely engrossed in covering every inch of Lance's skin with the pale mixture, tongue sticking out in concentration as he attempted to soften a lump. When they did make brief eye contact--when Keith tried to wipe something off Lance's eyelashes, Lance caught the flicker of his violet eyes. 

The irises looked like the uncountable galaxies he and Keith had sat down and tried to memorize that day. If Lance looked closer, he could see constellations in his freckles as well. 

Keith had the universe in his eyes and Lance had the ocean in his own. They made a fitting pair.

"All done," Keith murmured, sitting back and setting the bowl down. He washed his hands and lifted one wet finger to rub at his eye before realizing he couldn't. 

"You good now?" Lance asked, watching him carefully.

Keith blinked, seeming to come back to reality. "Huh?" His brow cleared, but some of that wariness returned. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it helped. Thanks."

He gave Lance a weak smile, his fingers tapping the surface of the sink with rhythmic clicks. They kept clicking, even as Lance washed off his mask and Keith washed his own and they watched the water slowly swirl down the sink in a whorl of red and white. 

"Do you need a stim toy?" Lance asked, once they were in the room again. He could tell Keith was getting sleepy--after all, it was probably three am and the guy had trouble sleeping even before this. Lance himself could feel his eyelids droop. 

"A what?"

"A stim toy." Lance dug one out from his box of treasures. "For something to occupy your hands so you don't start picking your lips or biting your nails." He sent Keith's fingers a pointed look, noting the state of the cuticles. Keith scowled defensively, but there was no heat to his glare. 

"What, you've been looking at my lips lately?" Keith mumbled, but there was no mistaking the words.

_Not like they were soft, pink, and very kissable_. "Sleepy Keith is flirty Keith, got it," Lance managed, and was proud to hear his unwavering voice. "You said it, not me." 

A hesitant smile made its way onto Keith's face as he slumped backward, leaning on the bed frame from his position on the floor. Lance slid into place next to him and handed him an earbud from his iPod. 

"Just take it. We have a stupid security mission and no doubt Shiro's gonna find new ways to torture us tomorrow and you need sleep."

Keith huffed and plugged it in. They sat there in comfortable silence with steady instrumental music in their ears. 

Ten minutes later, Lance tried to get up for water, but didn't because of the weight on his side. Keith had fallen asleep on his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering slightly and breaths heavy, and Lance just smiled. Like this, when Keith wasn't fighting or arguing or running away from Shiro with a wicked smile on his face, he was vulnerable. The peacefulness of his expression made him look strangely innocent in his sleep. 

If their fingers ended up entwining right before Lance fell asleep on top of Keith's head, he said nothing. 

.

.

.

Lance woke up with an aching neck and a numb right arm. 

He groaned under his breath, shifting slightly to adjust his probably now-flattened ass to the hard floor, but it did nothing. They were still in the same position they'd been when they fell asleep, except now Lance's hair was sticking up in all directions and Keith's nose was squashed against his shoulder, his head having slid down over the hours. There was a sleep wrinkle on his cheek.

He was still out cold. 

Approaching footsteps made Lance shut his eyes hurriedly and lean against Keith once more. In a house of five siblings, he'd perfected the art of pretending to sleep, and hopefully this would fool his other, unrelated space siblings. 

"Lance, have you seen--" said a familiar voice. "Oh."

_Mierda_. 

Of all the people to catch Lance and Keith in a somewhat intimate position like this, of course it would be their leader and Keith's older brother who was built like _Hercules_ and would probably make a bow tie out of Lance's spinal cord if he tried anything funny. 

Lance cracked his eyelids open just a bit, so he could see a blurry image. 

" _Oh_ ," Shiro repeated, through a shit-eating grin. He raised something small and orange, and Lance squeezed his eyes closed just as he heard a shutter go off. 

_Fuck._

"Well, this is going in the Klance folder," Shiro mumbled to himself, looking at the picture he'd just taken as he walked away. 

For a second, Lance wanted to see that picture to know whether it was as cute as he thought the moment was. Then Keith shifted and mumbled something. 

"Hey, Red." Lance nudged him. "Buddy. We've got a mission to do." The nickname slipped out without him even realizing. 

Keith's eyes snapped open all of a sudden, and he sat bolt upright before realizing where he was. "Oh."

Lance chuckled. "Yeah, _oh_." He was startled when Keith sat up again, cheeks flushed. 

"Shit, I fell asleep on you--on the floor."

"Nah, it's fine." Lance waved his hand in what he hoped was an airy manner. "Anything that helps you sleep."

Keith ducked his head so his bangs fell in front of his face as he got to his feet and moved towards the door. 

"Thanks," he murmured, and slipped through before Lance could say anything.


	6. been a while

_"Shiro?--tribes--attack--!"_

"Keith? Lance? Can anyone hear me?"

_"--are attacking! Rebel--assassins--"_

"Lance? Come in!"

_"Keith--lost--Lion"_

"Lance, where's Keith? Can you hear me?"

_"--Shiro? I lost Keith--red lion--is."_

.

.

.

Keith trudged through the corridors of the communications base on Zenia. It was just their luck, he thought bitterly, to be sent on a diplomatic mission for which the most strenuous activity was probably _crowd control_ , and for it to end up like _this_ : Lance lost in one of the other wings of the buildings while they evacuated all the civilians out of the center.

Fluff mission, his ass.

Unfortunately, the setting of bombs and rivaling tribes of the Zenians meant that their communications had been cut off as well. Keith had long stopped hearing Lance's constant string of _shit shit fuck shit crap_ and various Spanish expletives in his ears, and because he didn't have his partner, most of his shots were accompanied by a squint and a prayer.

It was all that wayward tribe's fault.

Zenia was divided into two races--the Zeno and Zena. It was ridiculous to think of the raging conflict between them when it was so obvious to the outsiders that they were more similar than different (remind him of someone?) but there they had it. The Zena were the majority race, and lately, trouble had been stirring underneath the grudgingly obedient forces of the Zeno for a few years now. Apparently, the arrival of two of Voltron's more important paladins (aside from the black one) was all they needed to start a straight out rioting shootout led by a few underground rebel forces.

So, like Keith had said: _ridiculous_.

He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but humans were smarter. Sure, they'd fought an uncountable, unforgivable number of wars determined by skin color and religion alone, but they'd learnt their lesson. Hopefully.

Yeah, all Keith knew was that nobody on Team Voltron was the same ethnicity: Hunk was Samoan, Lance was Latino, Shiro was Japanese, Keith was--well, definitely East Asian and _something_ , Coran and Allura weren't even of the same species, and Pidge was Italian.

"You're our token white girl, Pidgey," Lance had said once. Pidge had given him a death stare over her glasses--which he returned in full force--and then the whole room had burst into laughter, including Shiro.

Allura had been very confused.

If Team Voltron couldn't set a simple example of _diversity, people, white isn't a fucking norm_ , then the rest of the universe could. But until then, the paladins would be there to rip xenophobes apart.

For now, Keith was stuck with traversing the corridors, trying to see if anyone had been left behind, and occasionally banging at his helmet so hard to jostle his comms that his head start to ache.

The anxiety about losing Lance had been tamped down and locked inside a box he'd shoved into his mental headspace. Keith was good at compartmentalizing, and this was no different. Lance would be okay. He was the best rifleman Keith ever knew and trained in long range and a _paladin of Voltron_ , for fuck's sake. Nobody dared mess with any one of the paladins for fear of bringing the wrath of the rest of the team down on their heads.

A sudden sound made Keith halt abruptly like he'd been paralyzed.

It was a low whimper.

Keith spun around. The corridors were long and seemingly endless--honestly, fuck the Zenians and their screwed-up sense of depth perception--and he had absolutely no idea where the sound came from.

It was definitely a distress call, though.

The person whimpered again, a long high-pitched whine. Keith let his eyes fall shut, relying solely on his sensitive hearing and smell to find them. If it was a Galra kit and he was the parent, he would've known instantly where to find them.

Time to ask himself the time-honored question: What Would Kolivan Do?

Keith made a low hum at the back of his throat, a call to whoever this person was. He'd heard Blades make it at apprentices who stepped out of line, he'd heard his mother make it when he was having a nightmare; now he made the noise. It was less of a growl and more of a purr, like he was trying to find the frequency that would echo just right down the hallways.

He received an answering whimper.

He suppressed the urge to go sprinting off right there. There was something about that call--something piteous, something desperate--that appealed to his Galran senses. He might not have been a parent, might not have had a kit to protect, but those senses were afire anyways. He supposed it was natural instinct of the Galra to protect their young with all they had.

He skidded to a stop once he entered the main comms room and did a quick headcount. Five rebels, three snipers.

One child.

A Galra child, but a child nonetheless. He had no idea how Galra children were out here, but now wasn't the time.

Keith supposed that the young ones looked different when they were kits and when they were adults. Instead of yellow sclerae and slit pupils, this boy had big eyes, all iris and no pupil. His hair was pale and downy, like baby bird feathers, skin a pleasant shade of lavender, and his ears were pointed like the Alteans. He couldn't have been more than three or four years old, judging by the bits of soft fur around his ears that Keith knew purebred Galra kits grew out by the time they were ten.

The boy was fiddling with his maroon robe hem (it contrasted hideously with his skin color), staring up at Keith with innocent eyes, one of which was pale blue like Allura's and the other a rich, earthy brown like Hunk's. A birth defect, probably, just like Keith's own violet eyes.

"Stay here," Keith told the little boy, gently pushing him into the alcove around the corner. He nodded, eyes wide and flickering from Keith's gaze to the swords he was holding. "I'll be back, alright?" He thought hard for the little bit of Galran he'd learnt at the Blade of Marmora. " _Cheuosso nu vey bahar_." _  
_

_Don't come out, no matter what._

The boy nodded, slightly harder this time. Keith patted him on the head (his hair was soft and silky, like Allura's) and emerged into the control room, bayard sword in one hand and his blade in the other.

The rebels spotted him instantly and raised their guns.

Keith could only hope that they hadn't been trained in precision aim. He ducked and ran in a zigzagging pattern, most of his slashes accompanied by a squint and a prayer that his armor would hold. He managed to make his way to the wall that had the building-wide alarm in it, so he could just slam it and it would alert everyone in the outer city.

"Drop your weapon, or I'll slit his throat."

Keith turned around, and his blood turned to ice.

One of the leaders of the Zeno rebels that he'd bypassed earlier on--Krel, his name was--had one gun pointed at Keith, and a blade held to the throat of the little boy, whom Keith could see was trembling, even from such a distance.

_Not the kid, please, not the kid._

Krel bared his teeth in a smirk, blunted canines exposed. "I won't say it again."

Keith didn't put down his sword. Instead, he looked at the boy.

His mismatched eyes were blown wide with fear, terror emanating from every inch of his small body as he shook against Krel's tight grasp. It was a silent plea of _save me please don't let him do this_ \--and Keith couldn't do it. Keith couldn't look into the boy's eyes and sacrifice him.

So he put down his swords.

_Not the kid, not the kid, not the kid._

Krel's grin widened. He opened his mouth to say something when there was a sudden deafening explosion nearby. His smirk turned into a snarl, and Keith took the chance to turn around and slam his palm down on the button, turning on the building-wide alarm.

Krel growled. "You should've stood back when you had the chance."

The knife moved faster than Keith would've liked to admit. He blinked one second, and it had zipped across the boy's throat. Krel grinned maniacally. "Victory or death," he snarled, as he threw himself through the window.

Keith didn't register the familiar phrase or the shattering of glass.

Because the boy had crumpled.

He was dead by the time Keith reached him. He could see that. Those big eyes were glassy and sightless, and his pink mouth was open in a cry that never left his lips.

Keith's blood was pounding in his ears. Even though the room was silent, the noise of his pulse was deafening. His ears were stuffed with cotton and white noise and he couldn't breathe because it was _\--not the kid not the kid please not the kid--_

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

Keith held the tears back for as long as he could, even though all the rebels in the room were lying dead around him. But he broke eventually, and the boy's soft hair slowly grew wetter with tears as Keith cradled the skinny, broken body in his arms.

_Not the kid not the kid not the kid spare him please spare him._

"Hey," Keith croaked, shaking the boy's bony shoulders. "I'm sorry. Please--I'm so sorry."

With shaking hands, he slid the boy's eyelids shut, pale white lashes tickling his palm even through the glove.

He was just a _child_.

 _"-eith? Keith, can you read me?"_ A familiar voice broke the silence, crackling into Keith's ears. The white encroaching on his vision cleared slowly but surely, and he raised a hand to his helmet.

"I'm here, Shiro."

_"We've successfully evacuated the citizens. I need you to find Lance and reconvene at the Castle. Pidge and Hunk have already arrived."  
_

"Got it," Keith said hoarsely. "I'm on my way."

There was a pause. Then: _"No injuries, right? You sound bad. Do you need a stasis pod?"_

"No, I'm fine." His voice cracked. Hopefully Shiro would attribute it to the comms and not his emotional state. "I'll find Lance and be back in half a varga or two."

_"Copy that."_

.

.

.

_"Shiro--he--pod."_

"Keith? Are you hurt?"

_"La--hurt--shoulder."_

"Is Lance hurt? Keith?"

_"They hurt him, Shiro."_

"We're getting a pod ready. Are you alright?"

"Keith?"

_"...yes."_

.

.

.

"Hey."

Keith looked up at the soft call. Shiro walked inside, footsteps light, and draped a blanket around his shoulders.

"You should get some sleep," Shiro told him. "You can sleep here, obviously," he added, when he anticipated Keith's reluctance.

"Thanks," Keith croaked, as Shiro sat down on the dais next to him and put a comforting arm around him. He was grateful that he wasn't asked how he was holding up or whether he was okay. He was also grateful that Shiro understood what he wanted to do and why and how nobody could possibly budge him.

"He's gonna be alright, Keith. It wasn't severe enough to put his life in danger."

"No, it just--" Keith shook his head and stole a backward glance at the pod. He stared at his hands. "There was just so much _blood_."

Shiro didn't say anything.

He was right. There _had_ been a lot of blood, and although Keith was used to seeing that much--also bleeding that much--he couldn't forget the reason _why_ there had been so much blood.

He'd been in shock. He'd seen a child die because of him, and hadn't registered the hidden figure in the shadows until it had pointed a gun at Lance and fired.

It had been a shot meant for Keith.

It was stupid, thinking back on it. Keith was the Red Paladin. He was reputed for his skepticism and his _suspect until they give you a reason not to_ policies that more often than not identified hidden threats and eliminated them before they hurt anyone.

 _He_ was the one who was most wary and aware of his situation, _he_ was the one to thoroughly examine people with unwanted caution, even after metal detectors cleared them. _He_ was the paladin on whom nobody could pull a fast one, not without getting a knife between their ribs.

And this time, he was the one who had let his guard down.

For a second, Keith wondered why he hadn't broken down yet. Surely the recent events should've hit him by now, overwhelmed him and left him gasping for breath. Instead, he was just _there_ , but not. Dissociated. Disbelieving. Absent.

"I thought you'd be here," said someone, and this time, it was a feminine voice. Keith looked up to see Shiro gone--he remembered hearing him say something about making sure Hunk and Pidge were alright--and Allura standing in the doorway.

For once, she wasn't in royal garments. She was wearing a white nightdress, her hair braided off her face and tied up properly. She was holding two mugs in her hands and there were bags under her eyes. She looked as tired as Keith felt.

Keith didn't have the energy in him to laugh at what was written on the mug handed to him, but some poor excuse for a chuckle slipped out. Pidge had gotten team mugs as some kind of Christmas joke, and they all had designations on them.

(Shiro's said SPACE DAD, and underneath it, _vodka_. Lance's said LOVERBOY LANCE. Keith's own said #1 ARM, and under that, _milk_. Pidge knew he was lactose intolerant. Hunk's said HUNK OF YOUR MOM. Coran's said NOT THE CLEANING LADY. Pidge's own said DID YOU JUST ASSUME MY GENDER. Allura's said TEAM MOM.)

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Allura asked quietly, and at Keith's head shake, sat down close to him. Oddly enough, her body was practically radiating heat--maybe average Altean body temperatures were higher than a human's--and it warmed Keith, in some inexplicable way.

"He took the shot for me, you know."

Allura was surprised, Keith could tell. He never volunteered information, not even when it concerned himself. But this--this was different.

This one was his fault.

He didn't flinch when Allura placed an arm gently around his shoulders and started combing through the ends of his hair--it was a mark of just how exhausted he was when he put his head down on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Keith," she murmured, as if she knew what he was thinking. "You would've done it for him as well."

Keith just squeezed his eyes shut. Later, once Lance got out, he'd have time to be angry. For now, all he wanted to do was sleep and not think about the teammate whose life he'd risked or the kid he'd failed.

Allura's hand unraveled a knot in his tangled hair, her tone gentler than Keith had ever heard her make it.

"Go to sleep, paladin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GIVE ME PLATONIC KALLURA OR GIVE ME DEATH. 
> 
> P.S. Allura was a Mary Sue and I intensely disliked her but surely her and Keith's friendship could've been redeemed or something.   
> P.P.S. Not that they were besties in the first place, but still.  
> P.P.P.S. Keith deserves a big sister figure, and if anyone disagrees with me on that, they can mEET ME IN THE PIT.  
> P.P.P.P.S. THE. PIT.


	7. far from it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Panic attack/mental breakdown, and a bunch of sobbing. Death mention of minor character. Injury and blood mention.

Consciousness was a curious thing. 

Sometimes you slid back into existence. Sometimes, you were eased back into the world of the living, to see eyes bright with tears above you and watery smiles of relief. 

Lance was slammed back into it. 

His consciousness was shoved back into his body. He came to a smooth, cool glass surface, thin air, and a hissing sound as the glass slid open. 

Then, warmth.

Hunk's brown eyes weren't teary, and Lance breathed a sigh of relief. It was quickly crushed out of him when he was squashed against Hunk's chest, heavy arms wrapped around him and a nose buried into his shoulder. 

"Lance, thank god."

Lance extricated himself weakly from his friend's grasp. "Yeah, well, that's me. Always bounce back."

"Sorry the others aren't here," Hunk said contritely. "They had a mission and Coran had to practically bully them into going. I think he's still rooting around in the kitchen for the Altean version of pepper or something."

Lance waved a hand airily.

Hunk helped him stand up for a second until he regained his balance, and Lance stretched, feeling his joints make satisfyingly cracking noises. He was about to ask for food and water, until he spotted a mop of tangled black hair among flashes of red, leaning against the step. 

"Keith?"

He shouldn't have sounded so thunderstruck, but hadn't Hunk just said everyone had gone on a mission? An urgent one?

Keith's head rose slowly as he rubbed his eyes groggily and yawned. "Yeah, Hunk?"

Hunk suppressed a smile into his palm. Lance didn't bother to keep the surprise out of his voice. 

"No, it's--"

"Lance!" He _must_ have been imagining the desperate relief in Keith's pretty eyes. The fact that Keith would've been worried enough to sit out a mission--something he would refuse to do even if he was handcuffed to the castle--was inconceivable. "You're okay."

"All in one piece," Lance confirmed, shaking his arms and legs in demonstration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk sidling away, and his eyebrows furrowed even more. "What--what are you doing here?"

Keith's brows pinched. "Waiting," he said, as if it had been obvious.

"But you seriously sat out a mission?" Lance grinned when Keith's cheeks bloomed pink and he ducked his head. 

"Shut the fuck up."

"No, seriously. You freaked out so bad Shiro had to _bench_ you?"

Keith threw his hands up in resignation, and it was such a familiar movement that Lance smiled. "It was stressful! I was stressed!"

"What did you do?" Lance demanded through a grin, shaking Keith's shoulders lightly. "Did you stab them? Red, do _not_ tell me you stabbed the Zenians."

"I didn't _stab_ them!" Keith protested. "I just told them to stand back."

"You threatened them, number four," said a familiar voice, as Coran approached them. Keith scowled and crossed his arms. 

"I _told_ them."

" _Threateningly_ ," Coran mumbled under his breath. Keith spluttered and turned even redder.

"Whose side are you on, Coran?"

"Voltron's, of course," Coran said cheerfully. "Now, I believe the team has returned from their mission. Keith, Lance, it would be excellent if you freshened up and joined us for a meal." He shooed them out of the med bay.

Keith's cheeks were still red. It was cute, but what Lance couldn't get out of his head was that Keith had fallen asleep in front of his pod. _He'd sat out a mission._

For _Lance_.

If that wasn't an earth-shaking revelation, Lance didn't know what it was. 

"Hey," Keith said suddenly, just as they were about to part for their rooms. "I--um, thanks."

He shot Lance a weak smile and disappeared behind his door before Lance could say anything else. 

.

.

.

It took Lance a few hours to realize that Keith wouldn't meet his eyes. 

Every time Keith looked at him, there would be this strange look in his eyes, and then he'd look away. If they accidentally made eye contact, Keith would give him a halfhearted excuse for a nod before transferring his attention as fast as possible.

Lance hadn't realized just how much they looked at each other until they didn't anymore.

Whether it was making wry eye contact across the room during a particularly boring debriefing, or a _kill me now_ stare they aimed at each other when Shiro went on one of his Dad Tirades, or even a confused glance shared when Pidge and Hunk babbled a little too much techno-speak and nobody around them understood--it had become kind of an instinct at this point. If something funny happened, Keith was the first person Lance would look for to share his amusement with.

It was a startling experience, being actively avoided.

He hadn't realized how much time he actually spent with Keith, in between the missions and meals and training. He hadn't realized how much they actively sought each other out until they didn't do it anymore.

Lance hated that look in Keith's eyes--that look of thinly concealed relief and _something else._

He needed to get it out of the way. He needed answers. He remembered the look on Keith's face when they'd registered the quiet click of a cocked gun. He had frozen, eyes glassy and absent, and if he'd been lying down, he would've looked dead.

Was Keith mad at him for taking that shot? z

It made no sense. 

He needed _answers_.

.

.

.

Keith tapped incessantly at the metal claw of his lion. 

He wished he had one of those--what had Lance called them? Stimulative toys? 

Keith had always been restless. He needed to either be doing something, be listening to something or someone, or moving a part of him to sit in one place. His focus, even back at the Garrison, never lasted for too long. It was what made him such an excellent pilot; he had something to focus on, something that would monopolize his attention and bring him to that perfectly calm state of omniscience. _He_ was in control and _he_ was the one flying the ship. Nobody else. 

Teachers and foster parents had always just chalked it up to an excess of energy, because the kid was too small and too wiry for his age and everyone knew how small kids were, right?

Keith had never realized that maybe, there was a cause for it. Maybe, there was a name for this 'stupidity' that had plagued him ever since he could read. 

_I thought I was just stupid._

His lion purred comfortingly in his head. Keith snorted. If the lions could speak, no doubt Red would've been shouting curse words mingled with compliments at him. At least, that was how she acted. 

_You're yelling nice things at me again and it's very confusing_ , he thought at her, and received the Lion equivalent of a sheepish 'shut the fuck up.'

"I knew you were here."

Keith jumped to his feet, startled. He spun around, expecting to see Shiro, or Hunk, maybe Pidge, but instead saw blue eyes fixed on him.

"Lance, hey." He swallowed down the guilt he felt from Lance's piercing gaze. He knew exactly why the blue paladin was here.

Lance didn't say anything. Instead, he shuffled silently to Keith's side and plonked himself down next to him, folding his legs underneath him. 

After two minutes of unbearable silence, Lance finally spoke. "Something's bothering you."

"I'm fine," Keith muttered automatically. He jumped slightly when Lance threw his hands up in the air, seemingly long-pent-up words bubbling out of his mouth in a torrent. 

"And the thing is, I know you're not! I know you inside and out, Keith, we're partners. There's a reason you don't want to look me in the eye right now, and there's a reason you've become even more broody and emo since yesterday, so if you wanna tell me you have a problem with me or something, have at it."

Keith almost didn't register his words at first. "You? I don't have a problem with _you!"_

"Then what do you have a problem with?" Lance asked, voice rising slightly in volume. 

Keith flinched away and tamped down the heavy feeling in his stomach when he saw Lance's slightly guilty expression.

"Keith." Lance's voice was soft. "Talk to me, Kogane."

Keith breathed in deeply and stretched out his gloved hands, watching as the tendons flexed underneath the black leather.

"Um." His voice in his own ears was rough and hoarse, as if it wasn't his own. "There was a--there was a kid."

"Huh?"

The shock and confusion in Lance's voice was like a bucket of ice water over his head. Keith ran his tongue over his dry lips before continuing. 

"On--on the building that the rebels attacked. There was a Galra kid, I don't know how, but there was. I--I told him to stay hidden." He stared at his hands again. The fingers were shaking a bit and his knuckles were white. "But he got caught, and _like a_ _complete fucking idiot_ , I put down my weapon, and even then, I--I couldn't get there in time."

_Not the kid not the kid please please not the kid._

"Oh, Red," Keith thought he imagined Lance murmuring.

"And I was so out of it, and because of that, you got shot--because of _me_ and my _stupidity_ ," he said bitterly, although the anger was directed at nobody but himself. "And you were bleeding, there was so much _blood_ \--and the _kid_ \--"

Distantly, he noticed that there were bruise-colored crescent-shaped indents where his fingernails were digging into his own palms. 

"I was supposed to save him. _I was supposed to save his life._ "

_And I failed._

Talking was like picking out splinters in his skin; he had to force the words out one by one.

Lance shook his head slightly, gaze still locked on Keith. He reached out. "Red—"

Keith stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over the claw of his lion. "Sorry, I need. To go. I—" Absently, he noticed Lance scrambling upright as well, approaching with hands outstretched and a soft, concerned expression on his face. His lips were moving. Lance was saying something. Supposedly.

His voice sounded muffled, distorted, like he was submerged underwater.

Keith took a step, and another. Lifted a finger to his collarbone, tapped--once, twice. Felt the action vibrate through the hollow cavity of his chest, reverberating against his sternum. 

He was hollow. He wasn't supposed to be, was he?

Keith lifted his foot again, but when it came down, he did too, falling to his knees. _I can't feel my legs,_ he thought numbly. _I can't feel my arms_. 

He stared at them, hands held palm-upward and side by side, legs trembling. He wanted to put a hand to his chest, because it felt too tight—there was something wrong, it was too _tight_ —it was crushing his lungs; he heard his heart pound inside him frantically. He wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and tug it away from his throat, where it was choking him. 

"—ey, hey, you need to breathe, buddy, just breathe," Lance said, suddenly _there_ , crouched right in front of him, hands hovering at Keith's elbows.

He could hear his breaths coming in short, stilted gasps. Keith sucked in more air, to no avail.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me."

With difficulty, Keith dragged his gaze to Lance. He tried to blink aside the oddly white glow encroaching upon his vision--the lights in the hangar were too bright, almost blindingly so, and he couldn't see anything--to find intense blue eyes the color of the Caribbean sea, clouded over with guilt and worry. 

"One, two, three, four," Lance recited. 

_One, two, three, four--_

"Count with me. One, two, three, four." 

Slowly, the dancing spots disappeared, coalescing back into actual _things_. Keith's surroundings gradually cleared, and he blinked. His head stopped buzzing, and his didn't feel like they were stuffed with cotton and static anymore, but he just slumped forward and curled his fingers into Lance's shirt. 

"You're good, Red. You're okay," Lance murmured from above him. 

"I didn't even know his _name_ ," Keith whispered into tan skin. Just this once, he supposed. "And his _parents_ \--I didn't even know how old he was--he was so _young_."

Lance didn't say anything. And then, "Keith? If you wanna cry, it's okay."

So Keith allowed himself a few tears. Lance's arms wrapped around him as Keith buried his nose into Lance's shoulders and sniffled. 

The sobs came eventually.

They weren't even weak ones. These were shattering sobs that wracked his whole body, so harsh they were almost silent. Desolate, echoing sobs that ripped out of his throat, leaving him gasping for air and struggling to breathe. Sobs that Keith knew he'd bottled up for more than seven years, now that he'd finally fallen apart. 

The tears dripped down his face until they were soaked by Lance's shirt.

Eventually, he ran out of them, leaving him breathing shakily but steadily and feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth, although Lance didn't let go. He didn't ask questions either, and the blue that stared back when Keith made eye contact was deep and reassuring. 

"Not your fault," he heard a whisper. "You were both young." 

Although whether it came from Lance or his lion or both, Keith couldn't tell.

.

.

.

Neither of them mentioned the, uh, incident. 

Keith had apologized to Lance right after and received a scolding for _what did I tell you about it not being your fault_ and a smack upside the head for his troubles, and after that, neither of them talked about it. Lance didn't ask anything about _what do you have a problem with_ or _what's bothering you_ , didn't breathe a word about it to anyone.

When Keith got a little more determined in battle, a little more adamant to save the helpless, Lance said nothing. 

When Lance got a little reckless with his maneuvers, managed to scratch himself a little more than necessary during training or on the field while looking out for the red paladin, Keith just silently patched him up. 

Occasionally, Keith would catch Lance looking at him with that strange mixed expression of worry and hurt and frustration, but he never said anything. After all, he didn't know what Lance _wanted_. 

He'd give it to him without hesitation if he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally, I've never had a panic attack, and I hope to god I never will. But what I _have_ had--or done--is fainted.
> 
> A grand total of six times, due to various reasons.
> 
> Injuring a sensitive nerve in my elbow, hypoglycemia from dehydration, falling off a chair and smacking myself on the head (yeah, I know what you're thinking, and I was six), and a lot of blood loss.
> 
> Name it, I've done the stupid thing. I've gotten a lot of lectures in my life. Take care of yourself, Ro, drink enough water, Ro, eat properly, don't yeet yourself off fucking chairs, Ro, please tell someone when you're about to faint so you won't choke and fool me into thinking you're dying, Ro.
> 
> Yada yada yada.
> 
> Yeah, so I can tell you that passing out due to dehydration is similar to having a panic attack. Like, you can't see properly until you're lying down. You can't see, you don't know what's going on, you can't stand properly (I ended up smacking into a wall and getting a bruise because I was taller than the people holding me up) and you literally cannot feel shit.
> 
> So yeah, take it from me.
> 
> AND HYDRATE.


	8. level the playing field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronunciation of Tyrolia for those who want it: Tee-roh-lee-ah.

Lance watched in amusement as Keith jumped up, grabbed the ball, and promptly lobbed it at the face of a Montusian, who staggered away in disbelief. He could barely suppress his laughter, even as Allura walked over to him and plonked herself down on the ledge next to him.

"What's so amusing?" she asked. Lance just pointed.

Life on Montusi was like the epitome of every single beach summer romance movie ever made, except they were, well, not human. The locals were five feet seven at the _most_ , shorter than every single paladin except Pidge.

They were built like humans, although there were a few features that were distinctly and impossibly _inhuman_ like the Alteans, if you looked closely--maybe it was the sharp skin that was soft one way and rough another, or the glittery hard calluses on their joints and cheekbones, or even the fact that apparently their elbows could bend forward _and_ back. There was something about them that was odd and strangely off, and you couldn't put your finger on it until you realized that they were preternaturally like this.

It put Lance's teeth on edge. Human, but not _quite_.

Well, human or not, the Montusians loved to play games. Currently, the red paladin was beating their asses at some weird version of space volleyball.

Allura started giggling as Keith barreled into a Montusian, who seemed utterly dumbstruck by the good looks of the paladin playing against him, and stole the ball from him. Pidge cheered from the sidelines, yelling impractical advice, with Hunk occasionally attempting to shut her up now and then.

"They're--" Allura slapped a hand over her mouth. "What are they doing?"

Lance grinned wryly. "That guy's trying to show off to Keith, but Mullet over here keeps thinking he's challenging him."

Keith accidentally tripped up a female Montusian and caught her as she fell gracefully--and cunningly--into his arms. She batted her eyelashes at him, flashing him a smile, but he just frowned in confusion and propped her upright again in favor of getting the ball back. A male Montusian passing by patted the girl on the back and went off to chase after Keith again.

Allura's shoulders started to shake as she desperately tried to suppress her laughter. "This is way better than any Bi Boh Hill show I've ever watched. _The drama caught me totally unaware,_ " she said, mimicking Coran.

Lance smothered his laughter in his fist. "My aunties would be scandalized, honestly, this is shameful. They need a priest and some holy water."

Allura giggled, and then frowned. "What--"

Keith was jogging towards them, kicking up pale blue sand at his heels. The Montusians pouted after his back.

"Hey, Lance, Allura." He stood there panting in front of them, face flushed and tanned with the heat and the bridge of his nose more than a little burned. In bright sunlight, he was more golden than ever, and the freckles liberally sprinkled over his nose were even more obvious. "Mind if I join you?"

Without waiting, he sat down between them as Allura shuffled to the side and drank from a bottle of water. Close enough so that his and Lance's thighs brushed.

Lance took in his sweat-soaked hair, flushed cheeks, and the way his finger yanked the collar of his suit down. He tilted his head back to let the cool air brush his heated skin, eyelids sliding shut.

Lance abruptly remembered who he was eyeing and snapped his head back around. With a jolt, he realized some of the Montusians were glaring at him from across the field. He tamped down the flare of irritation and picked up a blade of grass to roll it between his fingers.

"Had fun?"

Keith shrugged as he ran a hand through his limp dark hair to shake some of the sweat out of it. "I guess. It would've been better with you, though. We could've teamed up and kicked their collective asses."

Lance snickered, ignoring the delight welling up in him. "I don't think your, uh, fans would appreciate that."

To his surprise, Keith glanced the way of the Montusians and looked away quickly, face twisting into a scowl.

"Oh, _them_." It wasn't a very pleasant tone. "Yeah, uh, I'm trying to ignore them. It's getting irritating."

"What, them flirting with you?" Allura asked in genuine surprise from Keith's other side. His cheeks flushed pink and he looked at his feet.

"Yeah, I don't know why they do that."

Lance's eyes widened as Allura sent him a teasing look from behind Keith and leaned forward to look at him.

"Well, they think you're attractive, of course!" She ignored Keith's splutter and Lance's obnoxiously loud cough. "Rubbish, Keith. You're quite good-looking, you realize, even with those somewhat, er, _odd_ ears you humans have."

"Thanks," Keith said dryly.

"Stunningly pretty, I might say," Allura plowed on, and Lance watched the tips of Keith's ears go red with mixed delight and annoyance. "Or beautiful even, I don't know."

"Allura!" Keith sputtered, and clamped a hand over her mouth. Allura just giggled and smiled angelically from behind his gloved hand and wiggled her eyebrows at Lance, who surreptitiously buried his face in his hands. Now that she'd pointed it out, he realized it. As if it quite literally hadn't been staring him in the face for the past year and a half.

Lance jumped as Keith buried his red face in his shoulder and almost fell off his ledge. He could see the Montusians scowling at them in his periphery, but instead made a face at Allura, who was busy trying not to fall off her seat with laughter.

"Shut up," Keith groaned. "Shut up, shut up, shut up." He shot Allura a glare that carried no heat. "I'm gonna make you play with me against those sore losers if you keep going. Lance, move along."

Lance yelped as Keith shoved him further down the bench and away from Allura, who was pressing her lips together to prevent herself from further offending Keith.

Seconds later, Keith heaved a sigh and wrapped his arms around his helmet.

Five minutes later, all the Montusians were seething. Keith's head had dropped onto a sweating Lance's shoulder.

All Lance could do was count down the seconds to imminent explosion.

.

.

.

"Lance, your heart is in the right place, it's just your head that's struggling to catch up."

The sentence would've sounded way better if Lance wasn't currently being told off by Shiro for eating the space mall Fruity Pebbles he'd been hoarding for a month now.

"A-plus for gravitas," Keith muttered, from somewhere behind Shiro.

Lance choked on a laugh as Shiro's serious face morphed into an offended one and he whirled around, hands on his hips. This time, it would've _looked_ way better as well if he wasn't wearing his clunky armor.

"You shut up. You've been nothing but a pain in my ass this whole time."

"More like a dull ache, but I'll take it." Keith dodged the helmet Shiro threw at him with a wicked grin. Pidge cackled.

"Wow, he is just hellbent on ruining your day."

"And," Keith continued, catching Lance's eye from around Shiro and visibly struggling not to laugh. "Don't put your hands on your hips. You look like an angry housewife."

"Says who?" Shiro countered.

"Says your shoulder-to-waist ratio, Captain America."

A dead silence, during which Lance could _hear_ Pidge attempting to stifle her snickers and Shiro's rather heavy breathing. They burst into laughter, even Shiro, who looked like he wanted to strangle Keith, who was grinning triumphantly.  
  
It did funny things to Lance's heart.  
  
Shiro looked sulky for a while and then plowed on as if he just hadn't been compared to a Dorito. "Alright, time's up. Remember Tyrolia?" He laughed bitterly when everyone around him made a face. "Yeah, I'm not too fond of them either. But, um, Pidge--?"

Pidge instantly flicked a finger upward, bringing a hologram to everyone's attention. "Yeah, they, uh, apparently Queen Ora accidentally managed to piss off local Mister Fuzzy-Paws, and now the Queens have a target on their backs."

Allura spoke up amid Hunk's groans. "They don't need us to do anything too strenuous, after all, their defenses are--" a grudging pause. "--not bad. But we will have to run patrol around the planet."

"Shouldn't take too long," Pidge added. "Their planet's half the size of Earth."

"Who's on patrol duty?" Hunk asked, pressing his index fingers together. "I really don't want to go, because I just found out a way to make churros and I really want to try that, uh, cinnamon substitute Coran found for me."

"Lance, Keith, you okay with going?" Shiro asked, looking at the two for confirmation. Lance waved a hand airily.

"Of course we are. We'll be fine. Right, Keith?" He looked at Keith for confirmation, expecting to see a playful expression on his face like the one he'd given Shiro, but his stomach dropped when he saw Keith's tense expression. His arms were crossed, shoulders hiked up to his neck, and his eyes seemed to be fixed on some invisible enemy.

"What's our ETA to Tyrolia?"

Something in his voice made everyone's jesting expressions fall away as they sat straighter and looked more serious. Shiro's Leader Voice was back, replacing his easy demeanor.

"Should be about a varga. That'll give you enough time to, um, ready yourself."

Keith just nodded.

As they exited the bridge, Lance bounded up to Keith, whom he could see was chewing on his bottom lip, which was red and rubbed raw. For a second, he wanted to grab it between his own teeth and bite, but _now wasn't the time, Lance._

"You should've seen how Allura chewed out that snobby Queen's wife afterward, you know."

Keith looked at Lance with something like surprise, and then tilted his head. "Seriously?"

Lance nodded emphatically. "Oh yeah. Totally ripped her a new one." Well, in diplomatic terms, of course, but he wasn't about to tell Keith that. "Like a middle finger straight to the face. _Don't you dare hurt my paladins_ and all that."

He felt a flare of triumph when Keith cracked a small smile.

"We're only on patrol," he assured Keith. "If there's any talking to be done, I'll handle it, and you can stay behind in Red and punch shit."

The grin grew slightly. "Thanks," Keith mumbled, shooting Lance a grateful look through his bangs. Lance shrugged.

"Least I can do, man. I figured pissing off Shiro would only work as a vent method for so long until he snaps and dangles you by your ankles or something."

The sudden burst of laughter reminded Lance what it felt like to be buoyant.

.

.

.

"I forgot how beautiful this planet is," Lance muttered in a grudging tone. "Damn it, can't it be ugly just like that one queen they have? I can't even hate it here."

Keith snorted. He could see Lance's point--Tyrolia, no matter how damaged or under-construction it was, was beautiful in a wild, exotic kind of way that appealed to the paladins' routine-fueled brains. When you were stuck seeing only cyan and white and grey for so long, even glaringly orange grass was a relief.

Albeit a slightly painful one to the eyes.

The one thing he was thankful for was that neither of them were getting any stares, even as they stood there in the uncrowded town square in full armor. Well, Keith's helmet wasn't off, so maybe that was why. Or maybe that other queen was just a little pissy. Either way, he was fine as long as nobody stared.

But Lance was whining again.

Normally, Keith would've complained, but really, he couldn't. Not when Lance was, well, technically being cute without meaning to be.

"So we just fly around and sit here with nothing to do?" Lance grumbled at the display board. "Great. This is great. Why not just cement my feet to the floor while you're at it, because _I don't think it's gonna make much of a difference!_ "

"Maybe you can go just walk around the market?" Keith suggested, although it wasn't like he was the resident expert on Tyrolian pleasure activities. "I bet they'll have some snack stalls or something."

Lance wrinkled his nose. "Eating unnamed alien snacks without knowing what they are? No thanks. I'd rather eat Coran's 'paladin meals.'"

_That's fair._

"Then we could go to the lake," Keith offered, and instantly Lance's eyes snapped to him. He grinned wryly. "One of Queen Ora's handmaidens told me there's this frozen lake a few miles away, and I bet even aliens gotta have some form of winter activities, right?"

Lance frowned thoughtfully. "Like what, ice skating?"

Keith shrugged. "Yeah. I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty fun." In a sudden burst of inspiration, he spread out his palms and fingers to make jazz hands. "Think about it: _knife shoes_."

Lance stared at him for a second, and Keith felt heat crawl up his neck when he burst out laughing.

" _Red_ \--oh my _god_ \-- _knife shoes_. This is priceless, you're so cu--Shiro is going to _love this_."

"Don't you dare tell Shiro," Keith growled, ignoring the fact that his cheeks were probably the color of his lion, that Lance was doubled up in laughter, and that he could've _sworn_ Lance was about to call him _cute_. "This is why I don't suggest things."

"No, no," Lance choked through a wide smile. "I love it. But honestly, samurai, that was the most _on-brand_ thing you've ever said to me. And that includes the time Shiro said you had a crush on Moto Moto from Madagascar."

" _I did not have a crush on the hippopotamus from Madagascar_!" Keith sputtered, and ducked when he noticed that people were starting to stare. "He--he had _eyebrows_ , Lance! What kind of fragile little _bro-flake_ on the storyboard team had an idea to give a hippo _caterpillars for eyebrows_ just so he could look _masculine_?"

Lance's shoulders just shook with laughter. Keith scowled and folded his arms. Screw Shiro and his ability to embarrass Keith with the thought of that dumb hippo with a fucking _monobrow_ \--

"Are we going to the lake or not?" he asked, a little more roughly than intended. Lance's laughter was abruptly cut off, and he appeared pinker than normal when Keith peered at him in concern.

"Okay, wait a second." Lance waved his hands. "Just to, um, put it out there, we're going alone? You and me?"

"Yeah?" Keith raised an eyebrow, suddenly unsure. "Unless--you want the team to come as well?"

"No! No," Lance said hastily, but Keith frowned when he dragged his hands over his face, through his hair, and down to his lips. "Just to make this clear, pal, are you--"

Keith swore lightly when his helmet beeped, and Lance broke off.

_"Did you start patrol yet, or are you too busy ogling Lance?"_

Keith spluttered--the third time that day, _fuck you, Shiro_ \--and whisper-yelled into his helmet. "Shiro--!"

Lance looked startled. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

 _"You haven't even gotten into your lions yet, have you?"_ Shiro sounded resigned. " _Oh well, don't blame me when Tyrolia gets ripped to shreds just because you were too busy drooling over Lance's sapphire blue eyes to notice_."

"Sapph-- _what are you implying_?" Keith hissed, and took two steps forward, as if he could physically sock Shiro in the jaw. Lance looked even more bewildered. By now, he was squished against Keith's helmet, trying to find out what was happening, and Keith had never before been so thankful that Lance was a forgetful moron who never put on his helmet.

_"Oh, Keith Kogane Shirogane."_

"Can you do that? Like, legally?"

_"Remember that time you were staring at Lance's jawline, of all things? Those were embarrassing times."_

Keith made a noise of extreme indignity and Lance threw up his hands with a grin.

"What? What is he saying?"

_"My own brother. Pining away like a damsel in distress."_

Keith expelled a breath from between his teeth. "You know what, Shiro, fuck you. Fuck. You." He pressed the blinking red button to shut outgoing comms amid Shiro's deep laughter and Lance's noises of bafflement.

"Should you talk to your brother like that?" Lance asked, eyes crinkled with amusement. Keith growled lightly.

"I'm disowning him, so I can say whatever I want."

"I don't think it works that way."

"Yeah, well, fuck Shiro is what I'm saying." Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance. "If you tell him about the knife shoes thing--"

"Nope, I got it!" Lance sounded way too cheery to be true, and Keith just narrowed his eyes further. "Keith, I'm serious. I'm not gonna give Shiro ammunition. I need to stay on both your good sides for this, after all."

"For what?"

Lance just flashed Keith a lopsided grin and walked away.

"Lance, _good side for what?"_

.

.

.

In the end, they didn't get to talk about the lake and Keith's 'excellent' idea even after patrol, because guess what? Apparently, the paladins of Voltron were a household name. And even on a planet populated by stuck-up snobs like Queen Fona, there were kids who idolized the men and women with Vs on their breastplates.

So yeah, Lance and Keith got mobbed by a group of little Tyli kids.

They were bouncy, the young ones, and they looked like miniature versions of the adults, size being the only thing that differentiated them from their fully grown parents. One of the kids, a slightly younger one with a long, pale blue face and cloudy dark eyes, was brave enough to approach the paladins.

"Are you the paladins of Voltron?" she asked, tugging at the hem of her dress. Keith looked at Lance to see him mirroring the blank, _oh-shit-what-do-we-do-now_ expression they were both wearing, and decided, _fuck it_. Keith bent down, hands on his knees, so he could look the girl in the eye.

"Yeah, we are. I'm Keith, and that's my partner Lance." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lance turn red, probably due to the fact that the little girl was giving them starry eyes. "What's your name?"

"Alexi," she said shyly, eyes flickering to her feet at back to Keith's face.

"That's a very pretty name."

Alexi gave him a toothy grin. "Is being in Voltron dangerous?"

This time, Keith definitely looked at Lance for help, even though Lance looked like he was chewing on something hard. "It is," Keith said finally. "Being a paladin is dangerous, but we do it because we were chosen. Because we want to."

Alexi's cloudy dark eyes shone. "Do you use guns? My Aina says you use sharp, sharp weapons."

Keith supposed 'Aina' meant mother in, well, whatever the girl's first language was. "Yeah, actually. Mine becomes a sword--" he demonstrated. "--and Lance's becomes a rifle."

For a second, Keith thought Alexi would get scared of the four-foot sword he was wielding, but her eyes got even bigger.

 _Oops_.

Lance opened his mouth to say something, probably to tell Keith off for brainwashing a little girl into adoring weapons, but then--

Sirens. Loud and grating, they shattered the calm of the town square.

Keith jerked backward, right hand clamping over his ear. It did little to muffle the shrill whining. Within seconds, the Tyli flooded the street. Voices rose in alarm as all around them, holograms flashed into being, displaying only one thing:

EVACUATION LEVEL TWO.

Keith remembered the emergency protocol he'd memorized. Level Two meant hostile invaders.

The Galra were here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this theory that aliens (or at least on Tyrolia) have the dichotomy between male and female (or neither) gendered names. Like in human culture, add an A or an E to the end and it's female. Take away the 'le', or 'otte' or 'ette' and it's male. You know, like Alexander, Alexandra. Charles, Charlotte. Daniel, Danielle. Whatever. It's in a lot of religions.
> 
> So maybe even alien names go like that.


	9. on my way

It took one shared glance between Lance and Keith for them to jump into action.

They hadn't even needed words. Lance instantly put his helmet on, tapping into his comms, and summoned his rifle. Keith gathered up all the children milling around Alexi.

"You need to get to the bunkers." He looked at the bunch of adults nearby. "Hey, take these kids to the Citadel. Move, move, move!" He turned to Lance, who had his head tilted upward and rifle to the sky. "Lance, what's the situation?"

Lance, who undeniably had the best vision out of all of them, squinted through the clouds. Shiro had drilled it into their heads: in case of invaders from the sky while the team was on land, each of them had their roles. Pidge and Hunk, to get help and medical aid as soon as possible. Allura, to contact backup. Keith, to hustle civilians to safety--apparently, he was good at that. Lance, to keep his eyes to the sky and shoot down whatever he could.

Yeah, well, this time he couldn't _see_ anything.

They shared another look, accompanied by a nod. They spun around and ran back to their lions, amid the rush of citizens all heading the same way, to the edge of the city. The alarms were cut off abruptly, their purpose to alert served; to have it going on indeterminably would hamper communications and create unnecessary panic.

Sure enough, the Tyli visibly regained their composure and order, even as their pace picked up. The only noise they made were from their shoes hitting the ground and the breaths they took.

The city was eerily silent otherwise.

"How many ships are there?" Keith gasped into his comms, once they were halfway to their lions. Lord-Commander Rezor (with whom Lance had struck up a banter-based friendship), Captain of the Royal Guards, was the one who answered. His normally friendly face was drawn tight with a frown.

_"That's the thing, there aren't any."_

Both Keith and Lance skidded to a stop at the same time. A few passing Tyli gave them frightened looks over their shoulder.

"What?" Lance said sharply, his voice echoing twice in Keith's helmet and the distance between them.

" _There aren't any,_ " Rezor repeated into their helmet displays. _"No ships."_

"But, the Galra cruiser--" Lance sounded lost.

" _There was a cruiser, yes. It was big enough and powerful enough to trigger the perimeter sensors set up around the border, but it did not--it did not deploy any fighters. No soldiers, no drones, no aircrafts_."

Keith looked at Lance, who looked baffled beyond comprehension. "Then how--"

In the distance, something exploded. Lance swore a colorful streak up and down. It was loud enough for Keith's hands to instinctively go up to his ears before he realized he was wearing a padded helmet.

"That came from the fourth sector." Keith broke into a sprint, with Lance following on his heels. "Rezor, send backup as soon as all the civilians are cleared. We're gonna scout for any casualties."

_"Be careful, paladins."_

"Aw, so you _do_ care for us," Lance panted, as he ran. Keith let out a huff of laughter. Rezor just chuckled wryly.

_"I might as well admit it. We are in war, after all. Well met, Paladin Red and Blue."_

They turned down a block, to the start of the fourth sector, and the sight that greeted them was...unnerving, to say the least.

The city was completely undamaged.

As far as Keith could see, not a single window was broken and the buildings were all intact. The streets were empty, free of citizens or any casualties he'd expect from a troop of soldiers or even a robeast running rampant. No rubble, no collapsed structures, no sign that there even was an enemy.

Something was wrong.

The hairs on Keith's neck rose, alarm prickling down his spine, and wordlessly, he turned with Lance until they were back-to-back.

"There was an explosion," Lance said, barely more than a whisper. It still echoed up and down the empty street _._ "Why does nothing look...exploded?"

"Rezor, we're heading in." Keith didn't wait for a reply. "Alert us when the team arrives. Don't send in backup, I don't want your people getting caught in the crossfire." After the message was sent, he turned to Lance. "You don't mind me giving orders, do you?"

Lance huffed. "You're my superior officer, dude. Second in command only to Shiro. Order away." He held up a gauntlet. "Besides, command is a good look on you."

Keith had never been more thankful that the helmet covered his ears, which he had no doubt were bright red.

"Alright, then. Do a bio-scan of the area. The Tyli have way higher body temperature as compared to the default in our suits, so tell me if you find any heat signatures."

"Scanning," Lance muttered, holding up his right forearm, blaster clutched in the left. He let out an expletive after a second, and Keith's eyes snapped to him. " _Fuck_. What the fuck? There's a kid."

"A kid?" Keith repeated dumbly, sword drooping slightly through shock. "Why would there b--it's a trap, isn't it?"

Lance nodded. Keith sighed.

"We're gonna have to walk right into it, don't we?"

Lance nodded again. Keith sighed again, gustier this time.

"Better us than anyone else, I guess," he muttered. "What do you think it is?"

"Body scan and heat signature suggests it's a child," Lance began. Keith raised his eyebrows in a silent query of _but_ \--? "But...there can't be a child here. Not so close to the explosion. Not alone. The Tyli would never leave their young alone."

It was true. The Tyli were very protective when it came to their offspring--something about a very long maturing period and short lifespans. Either way, there was no way a kid would be left unsupervised, especially when there was a planet-wide emergency.

"I'll take point," Lance offered. "You clear the building."

Keith gave him a thumbs-up and together, they ventured into the building.

It was a normal one, consisting of conference rooms and swivel chairs and some alien version of beanbags. The interior was sparsely decorated, furnished with a dozen chairs and a large reception area in the left corner. If Keith had to guess, he'd say this was one of the newly-built administration buildings. Nothing was out of place, and it took them three seconds to clear the room.

Lance ascended the stairs to the right of the hallways while Keith brought up the tail. The second floor had eight offices, all transparent-walled, all clear.

" _Clear_ ," said Lance's voice in Keith's helmet. Keith repeated the phrase back.

Third floor was the same, until they saw the closed door at the end of the hallway. Both of them knew what the other was thinking: the locked room had to be it.

"Hello?" Lance called, blaster pointed outward. "We're the paladins of Voltron. We're here to help." Keith saw the doubt in Lance's eyes and nodded at him.

_One, two, three--_

The door swung open.

"What the _cheese_ ," was the one exclamation that slipped through Lance's verbal filter, and Keith cast him an amused look. "There's nobody here? You have _got_ to be kidding me."

The room was empty. It looked exactly like all the other rooms, and it was empty.

Keith frowned. "That can't be it. It's not--"

Lance bit his lower lip. "Yeah. My suit's never let me down. You think it must have malfunctioned or something?"

"I guess," Keith said slowly. They retreated cautiously enough, walking through the hallways with eyes and ears wide open.

And then--

And then Keith saw a familiar sight that stopped him in his tracks.

" _Shiro_?" he said incredulously, coming to a dead halt. Lance stopped on the other side of the intersection to gape at their team leader, who had apparently zoomed here right while they'd been helping construction on the other side of the planet.

"Hey, you two. We need to get going. The construction was a lot more than we thought."

Keith saw Lance giving Shiro a bemused look from behind, and frowned. "What about Pidge and Hunk?"

Shiro ran a hand through his hair distractedly--a strange habit, for he rubbed at a spot under his right ear when he was anxious, Keith knew that--and sighed. "Hunk got a little...preoccupied. You know how he is."

Over Shiro's shoulder, Keith saw Lance's eyes narrow.

"Keith, get back!"

He threw himself backward without a second thought when he heard Lance's shout. A searing bolt of heat--electric blue in color--flew past him, grazing his armor and hitting its mark. It was a point-blank hit; Keith stared at the white and black blob unseeingly, monochrome among the pieces of broken desk.

"Trap," Lance said shortly.

Before Keith could open his mouth to scream, yell Shiro's name, do _something_ \--Shiro stood.

It was so _wrong_.

No. No, this wasn't Shiro. Shiro didn't stand like that--like a doll with dislocated limbs. Shiro was--Shiro was supposed to be shorter, definitely not seven feet tall, and he certainly wasn't supposed to have claws instead of fingers.

Whatever this creature was, it wasn't Shiro.

It--because that was what it was, a _thing_ \--was fuzzy at the edges, like a shadow. It was dark and blurry and Keith had to blink to keep his eyes on it, because he was sure that once he looked away, it would be gone.

The thing's appendages warped and twisted; the shadows blew apart like smoke and congealed again as it changed forms.

It was a horrifying sight.

A bare head that looked like it was made of thick strips of rotting flesh sewed together. A wide, smiling mouth with teeth sharper than knives. Arms that were so long they dangled near its knees, six clawed fingers on each hand.

The worst part, Keith thought, was the way it walked. Slowly, dragging its feet, heels lifted first for the toes to trail across the floor.

Straight out of a horror movie.

The _thing_ threw its head back, smashing it straight through the floor above. The room shook as bits of ceiling rained down on them, long cracks spiderwebbing their way along the walls. The beast shrieked, shrill and ululating, its long throat vibrating with the force of it.

Keith and Lance shared a look, and as one, turned and fucking _bolted._

Behind them, the beast screamed again. There was a thundering _crash_ and under their feet, the floor quaked. Keith could feel the tremor traveling through his armor and all the way up his legs. They stumbled—Lance tripped and Keith grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him up.

"Window; we need a fast exit—here," Keith panted, shoving them in the direction of an open office. _"Hurry!"_

"I'm going, I'm going!"

They hurtled through the door just as there was another crash—closer this time. Without further ado, they threw themselves out the window, smashing it to pieces. For a long second, they were suspended in midair, the glass shimmering and bouncing light off its sharp edges.

It was oddly beautiful.

For a heartbeat that lasted longer than it should, Lance locked eyes with Keith.

And then their jetpacks engaged, thrusters pushing them up and away from the ground.

They landed on the roof of the opposite building, turning just in time to see the beast bursting through the same exit, smashing the already broken window and leaving a gaping hole in the third floor.

"Remember that old movie, Alien?" Keith panted. "Yeah, that's where it's from."

"So _that's_ where I've seen it before," Lance muttered, blowing air out of his nose. "Who knew that your extensive knowledge of ancient monster movies would help in defeating a shadow monster."

Keith huffed out a halfhearted laugh, making sure to keep his eyes on the beast. It seemed to be taking its time; it probably knew that neither of the paladins would stand a chance without their lions.

That kind of confidence was a little scary.

"Rezor, come in. Where's the team?"

 _"Are you both alright?_ " Keith wondered if Rezor could see what was happening through the jam cams.

"We won't be if the team doesn't get here in time!" Lance yelled.

_"ETA eleven doboshes. Can you hold up till then?"_

"We'll try."

Keith huffed. There was trying, and then there was being stupid. But it wasn't like they had any other option. 

"Hey, samurai."  
  
Despite the steadily building ache in his head, Keith felt his lips pull into a smile, although it probably looked more like a grimace. "Yeah?"  
  
"Let's give it hell."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
"We have _got_ to update this tracking system."

Shiro sighed as Pidge aimed another kick at the faulty machinery in the old Altean pod. "What's wrong _now_ , Pidge?"

He sorely regretted abandoning their Lions on Tyrolia so they could show the Queen around the Castle.

"The paladin armor suits are tracked not through their electromagnetic frequency or their energy, but their heat signature. You know how hot the suits get."

Shiro _did_ know. Once he'd touched the glowing blue part of his collar after a training session and almost burnt his fingers off.

"The inside is like air-con, and the outside is like a radiator. Problem is--" Pidge threw up her hands. "-- _all of Tyrolia_ has a heat signature as high as the suits! How the fuck am I supposed to track them?"

"I suppose that is a problem," Shiro admitted. He didn't bother correcting her language--an angry Pidge was not a good Pidge.

"You'd think the Alteans would've used some quintessence-tracking tech instead of plain old heat signatures," Hunk muttered. Over the comms, Coran made an indignant noise.

" _We're superior, not omniscient_ ," he grumbled. _"I miss the time you were all starstruck by alien technology."_

"I don't understand how Alfor and your great-grandpa could've created and designed the Castle of Lions and sentient lions themselves," Hunk informed him. "And then failed so obviously in terms of paladin armor. Those are the most important part of the paladin! They keep us alive!"

"Mood," Pidge muttered, as she rooted around in a pile of discarded equipment. "You'd also think that the Lions would be able to transfer some of their bending powers to us, you know. I could earthbend. You could metalbend. Imagine it if Lance could waterbend."

"Technically, his Lion spouts ice," Hunk pointed out.

" _Technically_ ," Shiro said with some sense of satisfaction, while steering the pod around a particularly tricky blob of debris. "The difference is--" Was it worth it? Absolutely. "-- _elementary_."  
  
Pidge cackled. Hunk hung his head and groaned.

"That was so bad. _Terrible_." He took a look at Shiro's shit-eating grin. "You are _the black paladin_."

"Ask Black's fat butt why--"

"Say that again and I won't be responsible when Green screams at you for earning her a lecture from Black," Shiro warned. "Allura, what's the status?"

" _Only whatever Rezor has reported back. The beast they're battling seem to be a shapeshifter--it appears to take the appearance of one of the paladins, forcibly distracting Lance and Keith._ "

Hunk looked queasy. Pidge looked like she was going to explode, both with anger at her tracking system and at the beast.

Shiro's brow creased further. "Damages?"

" _They've been thrown around a bit_." Allura's voice fizzled out slightly before returning. " _Lance is limping on his left ankle--probably a minor sprain. Keith has a gash down his right arm--but so far they've managed to avoid fatal injuries. The creature is skilled in close combat, but it goes more often on the defense than offense, like a prey animal rather than a predator. And Rezor said it seems--it seems to know them. The--the paladins. Know their weaknesses and strengths and emotions._ "

Pidge scowled darkly. "Quiznaking excellent. Just what we need."

This time, Shiro felt compelled to tell her, "Language." He ignored her scowl. "ETA three doboshes, Princess."

His hands tightened around the stick. Even though he was wearing gloves, Shiro could feel his palms getting slick with cold sweat.

_We're coming._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FUCKING HATE ACTION SCENES THEY CAN S U CK MY D I C K.
> 
> WHY.


	10. what should have been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracks knuckles* bring on the aNGST

Keith's head was throbbing too much for him to think.  
  
At this point, he was beginning to doubt whether his consciousness was fully _there_ , if at all. Was he doing things or were his hands doing things for him? He'd never know.

He could sense Lance a few meters behind him, just waiting for the signal to fill the monster's chest with bullets.

Keith had gone on autopilot before; it was a common thing for him to do. But certainly not outside of training, and _definitely_ not in the middle of battle. And here he was, acting on reflex and registering all the wrong things at the wrong time.

The dazzling light of the sun that he made sure to keep his back to. The glint of Lance's blaster now and then. The bone-whiteness of the monster's teeth. The thick, sludgy consistency of the liquid it had spit here and there.

His breath was coming in short spurts. The thing had gotten in a good hit at his ribs. One was probably broken.

Now was probably the worst time for flashbacks to strike.

A twelve-year-old Keith had begged a nineteen-year-old Shiro to teach him how to fight. Shiro had promptly given in, and seconds later, had Keith floored.

"Don't react. Act," he'd told younger Keith, whom he'd had pinned. "Reactions are based on reflexes. Reflexes are impulsive. Don't be impulsive." He'd seen the confused look Keith had worn. "I'm not telling you to go against your very human nature, your reflexes are almost unnatural, just--don't be impulsive."

Keith supposed he wasn't that human anymore, so those preternatural reflexes were explainable. And yeah, he was a bit impulsive in battle.

_When in battle, don't be angry. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed._

Anyone who knew him knew that Keith didn't get angry in battle. When provoked, he became indifferent. Ruthless, even. _  
_

The beast threw its head back and made a very loud, very high-pitched keening noise that Keith felt travel from the asphalt under his feet all the way up to his ears, and it was so loud, so inescapable that it made pangs of indescribable pain shoot through his skull.

He stumbled backward, feeling like his brain was being picked apart gray cell by cell. _  
_

A new wave of pain was sent through Keith's head as the monster's claws came into contact with his sword. The monster made a harsh, rapid, clicking noise, and he realized it was--

It was _laughing_.

Keith had no control over the low rumble that built in the back of his throat, no control over the way he felt his canines lengthening and sharpening, no control over the way he bared his own teeth and snarled at the monster, no control over the way he felt his own vision clearing and brightening.

The Galra were apex predators, after all.

The monster seemed to cower for an instant, and Keith heard a low gasp from Lance behind him--he had no doubt that his pupils had reduced to slits--and thrust forward with his sword.

The monster faced him for a second. It shuddered.

Keith braced himself to see Shiro, Pidge, or even Lance.

Braced himself to see a wounded teammate, one on the edge of death, one begging for mercy. Braced himself to see the sights that would probably plague him even in his nightmares after this horror story was over--if they made it out.

A heartbeat later, he was staring at a kid. An actual kid, with lavender skin, pointy ears, familiar pale blue eyes, recognizable fluffy white hair.

The kid opened his mouth, and there was something fundamentally wrong about it, something--

Keith felt slow, felt his chest rising and falling with sluggish breaths--because when did the kid come back to life? He stood rooted to the ground, though something was screaming at him to move as the kid got closer but it didn't make sense, he was supposed to be dead, and Keith thought, _he's supposed to have mismatched eyes--_

And then the kid was blown away by a gunshot that echoed so loudly it made the pain splitting Keith's head triple in magnitude.

A hand latched onto his elbow, dragging Keith to look into blue eyes that looked almost grey with worry.

"Was that the kid?" Lance asked without preamble, taking the opportunity while the monster-turned-child writhed in pain some distance away. "The kid you said died?"

Keith's breath whistled out of his nose. "Yeah. It--It was him."

"It can shapeshift, remember? It's not the kid." Lance bent slightly--Keith always hated that tiny height difference--to search his eyes. "Not him, okay?"

Keith blew out a breath. "Okay. Yeah. It isn't real."

_It's not real not real not real not real._

Lance must have found what he was looking for in Keith's eyes, because he straightened up and saddled his rifle higher. "So, what's the plan?"

"Fuck shit up, don't die."

"Inspirational," Lance muttered. Keith just scowled.

"Excuse me for not being able to think up a good enough plan when we're two minutes away from being killed!"

"Maybe," Lance panted, as Keith shoved him out of the way of another swing of the monster's claws. "Maybe we should've brought our lions."

"How insightful of you," Keith yelled.

Thudding footfalls—he turned, got his sword up and blocked the claws, inches from his throat. His muscles and _bones_ strained under the pressure. Lance rained blast after blast at the beast and it let up enough that Keith could strike out. He cursed silently; that swing was sloppier than usual.

The beast threw its head back once again; Keith braced himself for lasers or corrosive acid or maybe even _lava_ \--he was ready for _anything_ at this point after being launched into fucking _space_ to fight an intergalactic _war_ \--but what came out was another sound.

And boy, was it a _sound_.

He couldn't help the scream that ripped out of his throat as he sank to his knees and put his hands over his ears. The sound was like thousands and thousands of knives jammed and twisted under his skin. Distantly, he could hear Lance shouting, screaming something as he increased the intensity of his fire on the monster; Lance hadn't been affected, Keith thought dazedly, probably due to his completely human set of genes.

His ears were still echoing with remnants of pain, when Keith staggered upright again. There was blood on his fingers where he'd jammed them into his ears in a vain attempt to block off the sound.

"I think it's a frequency the Galra are sensitive to!"

Keith had to focus hard on Lance's voice for a few seconds before he could start to make out the words and syllables from the oddly distant, distorted murmur he could hear.

"Probably," he gritted, every word sending new waves of pain through his head. Even the clenched jaw made him hurt all over. "You think you could throw a bomb at it or something?"

"No blowing ourselves up. I promised Shiro," Lance said. "That being said, we need to get you out of here."

"What?" Keith scowled, struggling to stand. "Why?"

"You couldn't freaking hear for five whole seconds and I had to shout directions at you twice. The team's coming in five; I can handle this thing for that long."

"You want me to leave you here to fight this thing alone? No fucking way."

"Your hearing could be damaged."

Keith startled. "How'd you know that?" Any loss of sense on a battlefield was a liability, and although he knew that, there was no way in hell he was letting Lance know that.

"I didn't." Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith, as he ducked and weaved circles around the monster. "But thanks for confirming."

Keith opened his mouth to yell something witty and probably sarcastic back at Lance, but he saw the monster charging again and all thoughts of banter flew out the window.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Lance groaned, firing a shot right into the beast's nostril. It screeched and Lance rolled between its legs. "Okay, you stay out of the way this time; your shield's gone and I don't want you deafened."

"I am _not_ leaving you," Keith said indignantly.

"I'm not asking you to," Lance snapped back. "I'm _telling_ you to retreat."

Keith set his jaw; his ribs gave a twinge and he could still hear static buzz in his ears, but he closed his eyes and opened them nevertheless.

The beast was spitting mad, swatting at Lance and shrieking. It was no surprise that Lance could goad even a monster into a mindless rage; Keith was pretty sure the thing has completely forgotten about him.

"When have I ever listened to orders, Lance," he said, slipping in the beast's blind spot. His head spins.

"God _dammit_ , Red," Lance snarled, so venomously that Keith halted _._ "You're injured, you can't hear, you're a _liability_. Take one step forward, and so god help me, _I will sic Shiro on you_." _  
_

Through a loud screech from the monster that made his skull ache, Keith could see Lance's expression. Even from this distance, Keith saw the incandescent fury on Lance's face. And the worry, especially the worry. It was almost stronger than the anger.

Keith took a step forward. "But—"

And maybe for once, Keith thought, he should've listened to Lance.

The monster turned around and Keith saw something in its chest, something hot and whirring and glowing, and he thought--

_Uh oh._

He felt claws wrap around his neck, claws so sharp he wouldn't even feel the pain as they left behind paper-thin but deep cuts on his skin, claws that lifted him bodily off the ground and hurled him into the air.

He heard a yell, heard the breath rush out of Lance as they collided into a wall, heard that horrible whirring, clicking noise just increase in volume until it felt like the monster was right next to Keith's probably-damaged ears.

He could feel the heat emanating from the beast; it had been saving the worst for last. 

He couldn't hear Lance's frantic orders to get up, get his sword, put up his shield--could only see Lance's blue eyes glimmering with something resigned and hardened and defeated.

For a second, Lance's face blurred out.

For a second, all Keith could see was the little boy with a sword to his neck and another at his chest, a little boy with terror written all over his face. A kid from Pentox with folded ears and bleeding temples and a dirty face with pale lines where tears had sliced their way through ash and dust.

For a second, Keith could only see the fear in the kid's mismatched eyes (the blue one was _so much_ like Lance's) before the Galra soldier slid his knife through his smooth lavender skin.

For a second, Keith could only feel the same blinding rage he'd felt when the kid had crumpled like a rag doll, and then the absolute _crushing_ sense of grief when he knelt on the floor, the boy's lifeless body cradled in his lap, surrounded by a circle of soldiers he'd cut down.

_I didn't know his name. How old was he? Four? Five years old? What was his name?_

His name was Lance, Keith decided right then.

At the last moment, right when the those horrible claws descended, Keith dove forward. He curled around Lance, back to the beast, shutting his eyes and huddling protectively around Lance like he should've done the last time someone's life was in danger and Keith--

_\--was cradling Lance in his lap, telling him the shoulder wound wasn't severe_

_watching and hoping it hadn't hit an artery_

_ordering Lance to stay awake_

_ignoring the blood that was even redder than the accents on his armor--_

If he couldn't save the life of that kid, he'd _goddamn_ save the life of the person he loved the most.

"Keith, no--" came a muffled cry.

Keith squeezed his eyes shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hate action scenes. I just detest them. If I didn't love angst and injury so much, I would wash my hands of action scenes. Just done.
> 
>   
> P.S. ACTION SCENES CAN S U C K MY D I C K.  
> P.P.S. I would've wounded Keith more but I realized that even with my sadistic tendencies when it comes to angst and his Galra genes, even he wouldn't be able to survive that shit, so I uh had to dial down the gore a bit.   
> P.P.S. I don't know why I love hurting Keith so much. All I know is that I detest Langst, I adore Keith, and because I love him, I'm gONNA HURT HIM.


	11. empty horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess what, I went out of state for a few days and skipped school, and now I have twelve FUCKING assignments sitting in my inbox, including like five worksheet packets, four portfolios, and a bunch of random exam revision torture.
> 
> My math class is wild. Nobody knows anything.
> 
> 'How did it become twelve?'
> 
> 'Does nOBODY HAVE THE ANSWER TO THE FIRST QUESTION WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR HALF AN HOUR."
> 
> 'It can't poSSIBLY BE TWELVE THAT'S NOT THE ANSWER."
> 
> And fuckin Ms. Naomi, "You should know this formula you learned it last year."
> 
> Okay, but have u considered: I didn't care then and I don't care now.
> 
> [Distant muffled shrieking.]
> 
> Yes so instead of having breakfast yesterday I just skipped and had two fuckign Starbucks coffees (because I was an idiot and didn't make coffee at home like a normal person), one hot and one iced consecutively and I'm not sure it's completely healthy but it's fINE IT'S FINE WE'RE ALL GOOD HERE.
> 
> P.S. I don't like the taste of coffee. Like, I don't mind it, but I don't love it either. Tea doesn't give enough caffeine, and that's the only reason I don't drink it religiously like my vERY ASIAN PARENTS WHO DRINK FOUR CUPS A DAY.  
> P.P.S. I can't handle coffee if it isn't caramel and/or mocha. Chocolate/caramel in it is the only thing that keeps me from chugging it and crashing hard.

"--ance? Keith, come in. Do you read me?"

Shiro swore up a blue streak in all the languages he knew.

The rest of the crew in the pod wore similarly grim expressions; Pidge's amber eyes were hard and unyielding as she tapped away at the technology like it owed her money, Hunk's mouth was a thin, severe line and he didn't look the slightest bit nauseous, and Coran and Allura clipped out updates every now and then, their voices stretched tight with tension, even over the comms.

"Where the fuck is that shadow demon?" Pidge asked, voice low and taut.

" _The building is dangerously close to collapsing; the demon must have torn through a few of its foundational structures without either of the paladins noticing_ ," Rezor responded. " _The fourth sector is untouched otherwise_."

"So we go in with our lions, rip it to pieces, and toss it into space," Hunk said flatly. "Yellow can take care of it."

Shiro had no doubt, not after seeing the stony look on Hunk's face.

"Hunk's taking Yellow to get rid of the monster, so Shiro, we should take two stasis pods to shove them in just in case." Pidge's knuckles were white around her tablet. She looked like she was about to break it in half. "I'm looking forward to _obliterate_ it," she hissed at the screen in front of her.

They reached the fourth sector a few minutes later. Like Rezor had informed them, it was completely untouched, except for one building which was smoking at the top few floors and close to collapsing. When a dark, blurry figure emerged from around the corner, Yellow flew down, grabbed it in its giant metal claws, and flew away.

Shiro swallowed at the shrieks.

"Alright, girl," he whispered to his dashboard. Black purred in response. "Let's find our space sons."

.

.

.

Reality was cold.

Keith's blood was warm.

Keith, when he couldn't sleep, counted sheep. Sometimes he counted stars, sometimes constellations. Sometimes he fought an imaginary gladiator in his head and counted the number of strikes Dream-Keith got in before he fell asleep.

Right now, Lance's tear count had gone up to two in the past three minutes.

He wished he could prevent Lance from crying. Lance should never cry. But they were crushed between a crumbling wall and several falling beams--if he could make an estimate, he'd guess that they'd fallen through the roof and down into one of the other floors--and the what-was-basically-a-hole wound in the left side of his chest shifted now and then.

Lance had gone completely white when he'd checked a few minutes ago, and they hadn't said a word since then.

"You're...crying," he managed, and it was a shock to realize just how thin and weak his voice had gotten. "Please don't cry."

Through his visor, he saw Lance stare at him incredulously. Maybe it had been a bit of a stupid request.

"Keith, you're--" Lance broke off, probably deciding it was pointless to try and explain. " _Why_." He sounded like he was choking. "Why would you do that?"

They were pressed against each other, a fallen-in doorway on the front and a half-torn-down wall at their backs. Keith couldn't tell how exactly he was sitting; his chin was resting on Lance's left shoulder, but he was twisted away from Lance from the waist down, their legs a red and white and blue splotch of color.

"Be-Because. Nobody is getting hurt. On my watch." Even that small sentence left him winded. He drew in a ragged breath, feeling something _rattle_ in his lungs. "I. Should've protected the kid."

"How many times to I have to tell you it wasn't your fault?" Lance whispered, voice strained and desperate. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you that the blame lies with the one who pulls the trigger, huh? You did not."

It was no use either way. It didn't matter whether they were the good guys or the bad ones--someone always got hurt. Keith would prefer it if it wasn't Lance he'd see dying this time.

This time, it was going to be him.

Suddenly, Keith wanted to slough off his armor. Despite the rubble trapping them, he wanted to remove his glove off his hands and press even closer to Lance than he was now. He _wanted_ so _bad_.

"Hey, Keith, no," Lance said. "No, open your eyes."

Honestly, he hadn't even realized his eyes were closed. Keith frowned slightly while trying to keep them open--it felt like someone had taped bricks to his eyelids.

"'M tired." It came out more like a whine.

"Yeah, that's--that's okay." Lance dragged in a breath and his chest heaved. "We get back to the castle, and you can sleep for a whole week, okay? Just power nap _straight_ through the war. But not now."

Keith tried to laugh, but he thought it came out more like a gurgle around the blood in his mouth. "All of us?"

"What?"

"Can--can we take a team--" his eyelids shut halfway and fluttered open as if he remembered he needed to keep them open. "--sleepover? I want. Want all of you there."

"Sure." Lance's throat sounded clogged, like he was fighting back tears. "Anything for you, Red. We'll dog-pile in the paladin lounge. Pidge will bring movies, and Hunk will bring snacks, and Shiro will arm himself with pillows to, you know, beat us into line if we get too rowdy."

The brief but oddly sharp image of Shiro in black pajamas with his squared-off military bearing, hair rumpled--wearing paladin slippers, except with the blue and yellow ones on his feet and the red and green ones on his hands, carrying a hefty pillow under each arm and one stuffed under his shirt for padded protection--flitted through Keith's head with weird clarity.

His thoughts were moving like molasses, like honey--something slow, anyway, maybe like congealed, old, sludgy blood--but he registered one name.

"Shiro?"

"Shiro?" Lance asked, and his face twisted. "No, no, it's Lance, remember? Paladin of the blue lion?"

"I remember you," Keith informed him. Were his words slurring? It felt like his words were slurring. "I always remember you."

Lance's bright blue eyes were glassy with tears, shiny in the anemic blue light from their suits. "Red, _baby_. I need you to--I need you to turn on your comms for me, okay?"

Keith hummed. The request had taken a while to register, but eventually his suit took the hint and turned on ongoing comms. His display was on the fritz, but as long as Lance could hear, they'd be fine.

"Shiro? Pidge? Hunk? Rezor?" There was a frantic edge to Lance's voice that Keith wished he could douse. "Can anyone hear me?"

_"Lance?"_ Shiro's warm, deep voice echoed in Keith's ears, and he thanked the paladin suit for its amazing connection. _"Lance, is that you?"_

"Shiro, thank god," Lance sobbed. "The building--we're under it. Keith, he--you need to get him out, Shiro, he--"

_"Hey, hey, hey, calm down. Calm down, take deep breaths, and tell me slowly."_

Lance sucked in a breath that pressed against Keith's probably shattered ribs. "Okay. Okay. Um. Keith--he's bleeding, he's bleeding so _much_ , Shiro." Despite his frantic words, Lance's tone remained level, although the desperation bubbling up under it was almost tangible. "The monster, demon, whatever--it just stuck its claws into his chest--shoulder. He doesn't--he doesn't look good. At all."

_"We're getting you out, okay? Black's digging, she's doing it. Can you get Keith to say something? Usually, he'd start sassing me by now."_

The voice rang a bell in Keith's mind. This time, he asked for the right person. "Shiro?"

_"Hey, kid. Ran out of sarcasm yet?"_

Keith drew in a sluggish breath. His eyelids flickered and his voice was drowsy. "Ugh. Screw you."

" _Oh no, I spoke too soon_." Shiro sounded amused, although his chuckles sounded very wobbly. _"I'm gonna yell at you later, you know."_

"Are--" Goddamn, Keith felt like a little kid getting in trouble for breaking Mommy's favorite vase . "--you mad at me?"

" _No, no_." Another shaky laugh. " _Not mad, just terrified."_

Lance was still staring at Keith. Neither of them had looked away once, mostly because Keith was too tired. He was too tired and his mouth wasn't keeping up with his brain. Too tired to lie.

"Me--me too. 'M scared."

The metal of Lance's helmet knocked against Keith's as he hung his head. "Shit, _Keith_."

"We havin' team nap?" Keith wasn't even aware he'd asked until he heard Shiro's breath hitch. "I wanna sleep. Be--be close to you all."

He heard a sob tear out of Lance's throat, and Shiro's voice suddenly start cracking, even though the incoming connection was great.

_"Yeah, anything you want, Keith. I'm gonna get you guys out, and then we'll have a team sleepover, okay?"_

"'Mkay." Then he remembered something. "Shiro, you're my brother, right?"

Lance sniffled, and Keith hated to put him through this, but he had to make sure Shiro knew exactly how Keith felt about him. Just in case.

" _Yeah, you could call us that. Brothers_." Shiro's voice broke at the last word.

"You're--you're my brother," Keith breathed, and tried to ignore the pained noise Shiro made. "I love you."

There was a long, very long pause, during which Keith could only hear Lance's little gasps for breath and his silent tears, which plinked on his visor and slid slowly downward like a raindrop race against time. Keith had lost count on which tear Lance was on by now.

"Shiro?"

" _I'm here, I'm here_." It sounded like Shiro was pressing his nose into his sleeve, speaking through his hands. There were a few heavy, shaky breaths. " _I'm here. I'm coming,_ otouto." Another pause. _"Lance, keep him awake, okay? Just--just keep my baby brother awake._ "

"Yes." Lance's voice sounded crackly. "Yes sir."

Shiro didn't say any more. It was just the two of them, now. Both of them alone enough so Keith could admire Lance's tan and the glow of the blue light on his skin. Then he remembered something.

"Lance, you wanted--wanted to say something before--before we came?"

Lance blinked. His bright blue eyes looked like mini oceans in the cyan light. "I did?"

"'Bout the lake," Keith supplied.

He nodded, then looked like an idea had struck him. "The lake! Tell me about the lake."

Keith hummed. "S'pretty, that lady said. I wanted to show you. You like water, that's why," he explained to Lance, as if telling a kindergarten child why the sky was blue. The Earth sky, anyway. "We don't have big water at--at the Castle."

"Water _bodies_ , Keith," Lance corrected gently. Keith made an 'eh' sound.

"I wanted," he pressed. "Wanted you to--" No, he was scrambling his words. "--wanted to _give_ you a mem'ry of home. Ocean."

Lance made a low, heartbroken whine. "Red, _sweetheart_."

"'M sorry," Keith said, and his own cheeks felt wet with tears. That was odd. "You'll have to go with someone--someone else."

"Hey, no, no," Lance said hurriedly, almost sounding like he was begging. "No, you're taking me, alright? Just you and me. Alone. Knife shoes, remember?"

Keith let out a low exhale instead of a laugh like he wanted to. "Yeah. Pidge would make so much--so much fun of me for knife shoes."

Lance screwed up his face. "She would," he agreed.

"Where--where's Pidge?" Lance's eyes shuttered, just for a second. Keith thought it was because he was asking for his teammate, asking for the friend he'd come to look at like a little sister. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the tears coating Lance's eyelashes, glistening turquoise in the light.

"She's coming," Lance assured, through a shuddering breath. _Where were they?_

Talking about water had made him thirsty before, but he wasn't thirsty anymore. Not hungry, either. And when blackness started to slide into the corners of his vision, threatening to take over the limited amount of what Keith could see--

That's when he knew.

"I'll miss her," he said, almost wistfully.

Lance looked like Keith had lit a beacon of panic in him.

"Oh no. No you aren't. You can tell her yourself." There was an edge of fear to Lance's voice, dulled by the urge to probably keep him awake. Keith wouldn't know.

"I miss Hunk," Keith mumbled. "And his hugs. I'll miss Allura. I'll miss Coran. I'll miss--"

" _Keith_ ," Lance hissed.

Keith ignored the warning signs; he had to tell Lance, regardless of whether it would be like slamming a sledgehammer into an already-straining dam of emotions.

"I'll miss _you_."

"Stop." Tears welled in Lance's eyes and he blinked them back. "Save your energy, alright?"

"Listen—"

"Keith, _shut up,"_ Lance interrupted. "You're in shock—"

Keith reached up, ignoring the spasms in his chest, and gently pressed a finger over Lance's lips, muffling his next words. His eyelids flickered, his voice drowsy. "You don't understan'. I _love_ you. That's why I'll miss you." He blinked, eyes searching Lance's. "Like, _love_ love. M'kay?"

Lance let out a broken sob, blinking the fresh tears out of his eyes. "No, I don't _understand_ —" his voice cracked.

But Keith--both of them could tell that he did. He _did_.

And a few hours ago, he would've given _anything_ to hear Keith say those words, to say them back, to see a wry smile curve over Keith's face accompanied by a self-deprecating one-liner. Now, he'd give anything for Keith to take those words back, because he shouldn't have said them like _this_.

He _couldn't._

Keith took a shallow breath. "I jus' needed to tell you."

"Stop it, Keith. Don't do this to me. Stop making it sound like goodbye," Lance whispered fiercely, hugging Keith closer. "Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it."

Was his laugh supposed to sound as garbled as it did?

Keith would never know. All he could see was Lance's face and eyes, slowly fogging over. All he had to rely on were his nose and ears--and they were clogged with the heavy, cloying, rusty smell of drying blood and the sound of water droplets hitting the ground in a steady _plink plink plink._

"It's s'posed to sound like goodbye, Lance," Keith breathed, words slurring, eyelids fluttering shut. Lance didn't register it at first.

His lungs were _burning_.

He had his hand pressed to Keith's wrist, fingers looped around the joint, even as the hand slowly slid down with nothing to hold it upright. He had his index and middle finger pressed to the pulse point, he was making sure of it. Blood was pounding in his ears as he dug his fingers into the limp wrist. He should've been feeling both their pulses.

Then why could he feel only one heartbeat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: [crying] give me some Sanity Juice, I am in dire need.  
> Brain: sorry Sanity Juice machine Broke  
> Me: bUT YOU'RE THE MACHINE  
> Brain: b r o k e 
> 
> P.S. Like hell I love causing pain lemme get that angst and sprinkle it eVERYWHERE.  
> P.P.S. I'm gonna go nap for three hours straight after this because it's three am and--sleep who what's sleep don't know her. 
> 
> Heh. Three hours straight. I am anything but.
> 
> Catch me jumping on the Bi Bandwagon. 
> 
> You know, I keep forgetting that it's not as fun to be bi/gay/anything other than straight in real life as it is on the internet. I'm only out to my parents and like one (1) friend, and I keep having to drag myself away from heteronormativity and the default 'future boyfriend/husband' nonsense and remind myself, 'It's okay to be bi, there's nothing bad about it' because while I know that wow, I'm bi, girls are cute and so are boys, mY BRAIN CAN'T SEEM TO TAKE THE HINT. That delayed reaction thing makes me feel real uneasy. It's like if I say it out loud some damning thing about me comes to light, and like no. Nope. Not going there. 
> 
> GODDAMN IT. 
> 
> I don't know why I don't like saying it out loud. I'm comfortable with the fact that I am bi, but not comfortable with my sexuality as a whole??? If that makes sense. Every time I realize it or imply something I get all tensed up waiting for the other shoe to drop. Internalized homophobia is what it is. I keep trying to avoid thinking or talking about it because once I do, it's gonna be final. No going back. And goddamn, HOW DO I TELL MY ASIAN FAMILY, HUH????
> 
> I'm probably gonna be like 'that's a problem for another day' and when I rewatch Legend of Korra for the 42069th time, I'm gonna see Korra and Asami being badass girlfriends and my crush on BOTH Korra and Mako is gonna come back and I'm gonna be like, 'o shit.'

**Author's Note:**

> And to quote Mulan, 
> 
> I LIIIIIIIIVE!


End file.
